


Ineffable Writings

by Demidevil



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Drabble, Fluff, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Short Stories, just had ideas, they don't go anywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demidevil/pseuds/Demidevil
Summary: A series of short drabbles about the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale over the last 6000 years. These characters are going to be a little bit of a mix from the show and the book I took some liberties....“We’re not here to discuss my interior design, Angel.”“Or lack thereof.”“Oi!” Crowley snarled semi-playfully as he led Aziraphale into the lounge room, the plants trembled as he passed them. Two glasses appeared in one hand, a bottle in the other. “Drink?”“Oh, yes please.” The Angel took the offered glass and sat down on the soft warm leather. “This is just business, why the drinks my dear?”“Not if you keep calling me dear. I like to get a few wines into you first, helps you to relax.”“Relax? I-I’m always relaxed.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short Chapter to get me started and to get the feel of writing these characters. Enter the Garden of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you sit down and think about it sensibly, you come up with some very funny ideas. Like: why make people inquisitive, and then put some forbidden fruit where they can see it with a big neon finger flashing on and off saying 'THIS IS IT!'? ... I mean, why do that if you really don't want them to eat it, eh? I mean, maybe you just want to see how it all turns out. Maybe it's all part of a great big ineffable plan. All of it. You, me, him, everything. Some great big test to see if what you've built all works properly, eh? You start thinking: it can't be a great cosmic game of chess, it has to be just very complicated Solitaire.”

The earth cracked above, warm soil sliding across his cold dark scales as the sun’s rays hit him for the first time. It was pleasant. He emerged completely from the dirt, shaking it loose from his long body and feeling the cold grass beneath his underbelly, the dew sticking to his scales. Crawly, because every Demon needed a name, even if they didn’t like it, he had never seen anything like this before in his life. The garden was beautiful, lush full of things he had never seen or heard, animals and plants, curious creatures that he took his time getting to know. His tongue flicking out languidly, this place was so much better than the dank and dark downstairs. God’s creations, the humans, didn’t know what he was, he was just another creature to them. Eve had run her hands across his warm dry scales one time and Crawly admitted that he had liked that. They were rather fascinating to watch, wasting away their days exploring the garden that God had given them. They lived such short lives, it was a pity really that they would suffer from mortality, think of what they could do if they only had the time.

 _‘Get up there and cause some trouble.’_ The order had come from Lucifer himself, honestly it was quite open in its interpretation. Surely the Lord of all Hell wouldn’t be too upset with a little snooping around? He could call it reconnaissance! Crawly had spent the first few days in Eden exploring his surroundings, familiarising himself with the plant and animal life. Afterwards he explored the stone walls, every crack, every little crevice met his scrutinising stare. It wouldn’t be a problem to scale the walls, the stonework used was uneven enough for a serpent of his size to get purchase. At the four points he smelt the Divine, his tongue flickering out to catch the scent, one that was familiar, like family. It made him gag. Could snakes gag? It sure felt like it.

Crawly’s scales shifted with his weight as he weaved his way up a tree, just to get a better look that was all. The Angel on the wall looked over the garden and was a picture of every cherubic thing he had ever heard stories about. White hair, white robes and glistening white wings flecked with gold. His feathers ruffled in the wind, but his blue eyes seemed unfocused, bored even, more interested in the garden and its inhabitants than his actual job. If he saw Crawly, he didn’t distinguish him from any other creature that lived there. He didn’t recognise the Angel, but it had been a long time since his fall, it was possible they had been from completely different departments. Heaven was quite large after all. There were more Angels posted at the Garden, but he never saw them, fleeting glances here and there but they were not interested in Eden or its inhabitants.

The days slipped into each other and Crawly knew he had to do it soon unless he be recalled back to the deep dark bowels of Hell. After what he just experienced, what the garden offered he’d be stupid to go back. The sun warmed his scales as he basked on a rock beside Eve, she didn’t realise how dangerous he was, over time she slowly became use to his company. She spoke to him from time to time, nonsense things that he at first didn’t understand but he knew she was curious which would probably make the temptation all the sweeter. He sat with her, coiled around her lap and flicking his tongue out at the flower wreath she was currently making for him. The tree was nearby, her eyes darting to it on occasion, it made no sense really, big no touch sign, just put it on the moon.

 _‘It’s only an apple.’_ His voice was smooth, sultry even as he climbed a tree beside her to whisper in her ear. _‘What harm is there? Go on, take a bite.’_

Eve didn’t need a lot of pushing, she was too curious and in moments she was grasping the red fruit and sharing it with the other, Adam. It was time for Crawly to leave, things would be changing quickly now if everything was going to plan, he’d likely be crushed if he was discovered in the garden. The stones were uneven and rough beneath his scales as he clung to them slowly as he climbed. He could smell the moisture in the air, feel the Divine energy radiating from the top of the wall. The Angel was nervous, he could smell that too, scared and confused, maybe Crawly could tempt a second today. The air was charged with electricity as his amber coloured eyes finally saw the view beyond the wall. A desolate wasteland with the first storm brewing on the horizon. Adam and Eve were silhouettes in the distance, a sword flaming in his grasp against the dangers of the new world. Crawly slithered towards the Angel, hissing and watching as they both surveyed the first humans make their way into the perilous world.

“Sorry what was that?” The Angel’s voice is soft and timid. Crawly’s tongue flicked out as his scales shivered. He stood slowly transmuting as he did into a male Demon with bright red hair like flames and black robes. His wings were like ink, a little haggard from lack of care.

“I said, ‘well that went down like a lead balloon’.”

“Oh yes, it did rather.”

“Bit of an overreaction if you ask me. First offence and all. I can’t see what’s so bad knowing the difference between good and evil.”

“It must be bad…” The Angel met his gaze.

“Crawly.”

“Otherwise you wouldn’t have tempted them into it.” He liked this Angel, someone who was willing to have a conversation with him that didn’t involve talking about the War. “I don’t like the look of that weather.”

The first raindrop to ever fall to the earth didn’t even touch the dirt. It splashed onto the Angel’s golden locks as he raised his wings to shelter himself from the storm. If Crawly shimmied under them he didn’t seem to notice or care.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Contrary to popular belief, the wings of demons are the same as the wings of angels, although they’re often better groomed.” 
> 
> Crowley and Aziraphale have come to an agreement within the Arrangement. Just a cute little chapter about trust and looking after one another. I do try to keep time periods vague so the reader can picture Aziraphale and Crowley how they want.

Crowley’s apartment was stone and was more like the perfect model home than anything else. There were nothing personal anywhere in the stark white place, but strangely enough the apartment was warm, the stone holding in the heat and perfect for the old serpent. Sometimes, he forgot what he was, caught up in the fun that humanity offered. The food, the drinks, how easy temptation was, a friend to share it with. It made every little outing worth his attention. He was returning from lunch, the Angel on his heels. The apartment greeted him like an old friend, smooth stone, warmed floor and absolutely nothing like the cesspit that Hell was.

“Is that a throne?”

“What?” Crowley saw the ornate chair the Angel was referring too, all gold filigree and red cushions. “No! Maybe… yeah ok it is.”

“Why?” Aziraphale ran his hands over the gold chair. Crowley was unsure where he had gotten them from, Buckingham Palace probably, were they a little over the top? Yes, but he had liked them at the time and now they lived in his apartment and he hadn’t the heart to replace them.

“We’re not here to discuss my interior design, Angel.”

“Or lack thereof.”

“Oi!” Crowley snarled semi-playfully as he led Aziraphale into the lounge room, the plants trembled as he passed them. Two glasses appeared in one hand, a bottle in the other. “Drink?”

“Oh, yes please.” The Angel took the offered glass and sat down on the soft warm leather. “This is just business, why the drinks my dear?”

“Not if you keep calling me dear. I like to get a few wines into you first, helps you to relax.”

“Relax? I-I’m always relaxed.”

Crowley barked in laughter moving to sit beside his friend with his own glass swishing red liquid dangerously at his movements. He slumped further into the leather, his clothes changing in the blink of an eye. The smart suit, jacket and pants replaced with something a little more casual, loose trousers and shirt. If it was up to Crowley, his torso would be bare but there was no way he was going to listen to Aziraphale complain all night about it being inappropriate. Chatter between them was typical as they enjoyed their wine, he was counting the glasses the Angel consumed. Crowley was simply being polite and biding his time until the Angel would eventually succumb to the reason he was here, he didn’t invite him around for a catch up. This was a part of their Arrangement and it was more for the Angel’s benefit, how Aziraphale managed to get so far in life with his meek and pathetic attitude? Honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Angel, as much as I love listening to what books you have acquired recently, but it’s not why we’re here.”

“Oh, well…”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but unlike you, I would like to actually sleep tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale threw back his wine.

“Stop apologising ands sit.” Crowley pointed to the floor between his spread legs and placed his wine aside. The Angel moved slowly off the couch, Crowley stilled as if he didn’t wish to spook him. They went through this every six months or so, as if they hadn’t had the Arrangement for years. This had been something added later, but it was built on trust and Crowley trusted Aziraphale more than he should. The Angel always got like this, he didn’t know why, it was a benefit to them both. Somehow though the prudish Angel managed to make a complete ordeal out of it every single time.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

“Sorry.” Aziraphale ignored the look the Demon gave him as he shook his shoulders. White and gold wings filled the void with a quiet pop, they were a little worse for wear, well honestly he looked like a pigeon that had been hit by a truck but that was why Crowley was here. He shuffled back into the white leather couch as Aziraphale moved to sit cross legged on the floor in front of him, his wings pulled close to his back, primary feathers touching the ground.

“Comfortable?”

“Not really.”

“Tough.” Crowley grinned; his words playful. He leant over the Angel’s shoulder offering the glass of wine back to help him relax. Delicately he ran his fingers through the individual feathers on the arches and smoothing them down. “Honestly Angel, we do this twice a year since only Satan knows when. Why do you always freeze up?”

“Oh, I’m not sure.” Aziraphale took a small sip of wine to calm his nerves, “I guess you could take advantage?”

“Of you? In your dreams.” Crowley chuckled, but the words had stung a little. He trusted Aziraphale but obviously that wasn’t the case with the Angel, he was still unsure. Crowley understood his position he supposed, this was a very intimate act and it took complete trust to let someone sit at your back and run their fingers through your wings. But what choice did they have? They only had each other, and Crowley knew that he wouldn’t let any Demon touch him or he’d come away with fewer primaries.

Silence fell between them, it was tense at first but after a few minutes of grooming Aziraphale’s shoulders relaxed, his wings no longer folded tightly against his back. Crowley’s fingers worked deftly to smooth any stray feathers, some were beyond saving and with a small flick of his wrist they were plucked to lay forgotten on the ground. He had never realised before, but their wings were different. The base was the same but Aziraphale’s feathers sat a little bit tighter together, his primaries no where near as long giving the shape of the wings a narrower and streamlined look. Crowley realised they were made for soaring, for riding wind currents with minimal flapping. His own, well they were a little more spaced out, his primaries longer, gaps between to help him climb into the air to ride warm thermals. It made sense in a way; Heaven was a much easier take off pad then what Hell was. Strange that he had never noticed before, the thin long wings didn’t seem to suit the Angel that sat in front of him sipping on wine and wincing every time a white and gold feather floated to the floor.

“Careful dear boy, I don’t want to look like a Christmas turkey.”

“Pagan turkey, and if you looked after them, I wouldn’t have to pluck so many.”

“How do you manage it?” Aziraphale’s voice was muffled around the glass.

“I do what I can reach.”

“But you don’t fly anywhere, you just take that awful automobile.”

“Car.” Crowley smiled fondly; he was always correcting Aziraphale’s mannerisms. The Angel was certainly stuck in the past. “I still prefer to be well groomed, unlike you. Honestly, have you thought about updating your wardrobe?”

“I like this jacket.”

Crowley’s delicate fingers worked down the Angel’s coverts to his secondaries admiring the little flecks of gold hidden in the down. Alulas to his primaries, smoothing them as he went. Crowley couldn’t remember whether his wings had ever looked like that, or whether they had been flecked with gold, there was a lot about Heaven he didn’t remember before his vague saunter downwards. Did other Angels have white wings? Did they all have the same sleek shape made for soaring or were they as different as the birds on Earth? Crowley couldn’t guess the answer, he hadn’t even been able to compare his wings to any other Demon either, a lot of them were quite happy to forget that part in their history and embrace their new forms. Crowley didn’t, not that he didn’t love being a Demon, no, that part was fun, what he didn’t like was the scaled snake he had emerged as, didn’t exactly strike fear into others.

“Your turn.” Aziraphale was standing above him with a timid smile. He must have zoned out.

Crowley stood, his lithe form practically slithering off the couch like the serpent he was. He stretched, spine popping audibly and shoulders tensing as his wings flared. The feathers were inky black flecked with little dots of red when the light hit them just right. His primaries, alulas, and secondaries were sleek and smooth, his marginal coverts and scapulars not so much. They were a mattered mess of down and sharp angles amongst the otherwise smooth surface. The tiles of his flat were warm, thanks to the coiled heat beneath them as he settled before the Angel shaking his wings to lay delicately out to his sides. Normally he would turn on the television, stream something maybe for a little background noise. That was out of the question with Aziraphale here, he couldn’t risk a communication with the Angel gently combing through his wings, what would Hell think of that?

A few small feathers were plucked, and Crowley felt something close to shame, but honestly it couldn’t be helped. He sipped his wine trying to forget about the Angel at his back, at the most vulnerable part of him, plump fingers working through feathers and gently brushing the scales that merged into them near his spine beneath his shirt. All Demons couldn’t hide who they were completely, raised skin here, strange eyes, even the smell sometimes leaked through. Crowley had been lucky and determined to cover what he could, high collars and long sleeves seemed to do the trick. The scales seemed more localised around his spine, but a few littered the insides of his wrists and ankles, a stark reminder who he really was.

The apartment was quiet, no sounds filtered in from outside, Crowley had made sure of that. After Aziraphale had opened the Bookshop, Crowley had thought about getting his own place. It had moved and changed over the years, but it made sense for him to have somewhere to think and rest after a hard day of tempting and mischief. It also made a great place to get away from Aziraphale if he was being particularly annoying, the Angel never sought to look for him, it was always Crowley invading on their personal space. It felt strange to call something his own at first, but since then he had invested in the Bentley and he never regretted the decisions. It made sense to have somewhere to curl up in case something like the fourteenth century ever happened again. Crowley didn’t think that curling up as a serpent under the ground would cut it for months on end anymore, not since he had discovered Egyptian cotton anyway.

“Does this remind you of anything?”

“Hmm?” Crowley muttered not really listening.

“Heaven.”

“What are you blabbering about?” Crowley turned, his wings almost knocking Aziraphale back. The wine glass clattered onto the floor, red liquid spilling slowly onto the tiles.

“Well, y-you know. Grooming… the only thing that Angels would do for each other.”

“I’m not an angel.” He hissed.

“You were.”

“That was a long time ago.” Crowley stood his wings stretching one last time before reality bent around them concealing their inky blackness from view. “Why did you have to go and ruin a good thing?”

“I wasn’t implying anything.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising Aziraphale.” Crowley hissed again before he practically deflated as if he had no energy to deal with this. “Sometimes, I wish you would just shut your mouth.”

“Crowley!”

“Are we done?”

“Oh… I guess.”

“Great! See yourself out.” The Demon waved over his shoulder pushing his way deeper into the apartment behind a heavy stone door that probably hid the bedroom beyond. Trust the Angel to ruin a good thing, he always did that, always had to see the good in people. There was no good in Crowley, there wasn’t supposed to be good in a Demon. When he woke the next morning, he noticed the Angel had cleaned up, spilt wine gone, feathers disposed of. Next time he saw Aziraphale he didn’t thank him. Demons didn’t say thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Watch out for that pedestrian!"
> 
> "It's on the street, it knows the risks it's taking!” 
> 
> Introducing the Bently. Very short Chapter but pretty much everything is written so there will be an update every few days or twice a week. Enjoy

“What is that?” Aziraphale sounded affronted as if Crowley had just shown him something horrible, like a murder, or a hotdog. There was a rumbling roar of the car in front of them, idling on the kerb all shined alloys and glistening paint job. Crowley had a large grin on his features all flourish and cocky attitude, his wardrobe always appropriate for the time period. Aziraphale wasn’t jealous that was beneath him, but the Demon’s prowling around was insufferable sometimes.

“It’s a car.”

“I can see that. Why do you need one?”

“I don’t, I wanted one. Automobiles, one of humanities best inventions!”

“But why?”

“It’s the little things Angel.”

“But why? You can fly, Crowley.”

“Yeah, but that’s not fun. This is so much more stylish. Come on, don’t look at me like that,” Aziraphale gave him that look. “Yes, that one! Haven’t you ever gotten anything just for yourself?”

“Heavens no!”

“So, the bookshop?” Crowley crossed his arms and leant against the rumbling engine of the Bentley.

“Is for research purposes only.”

“Oh, sure.” Crowley rolled his eyes before opening the passenger door and gestured to the seat within with a flourish. “Get in Angel.”

“Oh, umm, I’m not sure about this.”

“It’s perfectly safe.” He slammed the door behind Aziraphale and hopped over to his own side sliding in with grace that no Demon should possess.

“Do you know how to drive this thing?” Aziraphale was wringing his hands, a nervous habit.

“I’ve driven before.”

“You crashed that automobile.”

“Strategically parked.”

“Also known as crashed!”

“How hard can it be?”

“Crowley!”

The car launched into gear, it wasn’t a smooth ride at first, but the Demon eventually got the hang of it, even though he seemed to be going a tad too fast for Aziraphale’s liking. He was in a death trap with Crowley traveling at ninety miles per hour in central London and he was convinced he was going to be discoporated. There was a lot of paperwork involved and he had become quite attached to this little body, Heaven didn’t seem as appealing as it did a long time ago, Earth had so much more to offer him. Crowley was going to kill him first though.

“See it’s not so hard.”

“Crowley please, stop!” Aziraphale clung to the dashboard, his knuckles white. Why did humans invent such a stupid machine with no safety measures? Maybe he would have to investigate that, a little Divine intervention to make this death trap less likely to fling humans through a wind shield with a sudden stop.

Tires squealed under the sudden turn, the Bentley easily weaving through the little traffic and pedestrians seemed to be having miraculous escapes. Whether that was some Divine doing or a little Demonic influence, Aziraphale had lost count, if he had a heart it would be thudding in his chest right about now. The car slowed, the Angel was thankful as it stopped right in front of the bookshop, no parking zone but Crowley didn’t seem to care.

“That wasn’t terrible now was it?”

“That was the most horrible thing I have ever had to experience.”

“Including the fourteenth century?”

“Alright, umm, maybe not that horrible.” Aziraphale opened the door, his legs felt like jelly beneath him and the solid ground welcoming to his soul. “This is too fast for me Crowley.”

“You’re such a stick in the mud Angel, live a little.”

“I’d like to keep on living, and I won’t do that by getting into that contraption again.”

“Come on!”

“No Crowley.” Aziraphale unlocked the bookshop and disappeared inside, the Demon was going to be the death of him, well something of him. He hadn’t managed to do it yet but one day his luck was going to run out wasn’t it? He ran his hand affectionately over a book as he passed, if it was one that Crowley had gotten him, he didn’t acknowledge it. Aziraphale liked his possessions, his books, his shop, what little pieces he had accumulated over the many years on Earth. Could he really judge Crowley for being materialistic, it was rather hypercritical of him? Great, now he was going to have to apologise and he knew the Demon hated that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the kind people who have given kudos. I hope you continue to enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hell wasn't a major reservoir of evil, any more then Heaven, in Crowley's opinion, was a fountain of goodness; they were just sides in the great cosmic chess game. Where you found the real McCoy, the real grace and the real heart-stopping evil, was right inside the human mind.” 
> 
> There's a little good in Crowley even if he denies it. He's always been good at being evil, but sometimes he's a little bit less of a bastard.

Angels were beautiful creatures. No words on Earth could describe their true form, many perceptive minds had tried, and many had failed. The Bible was the closest thing to true encounters and even that was men (and women even if their stories didn't make the cut), trying to describe the indescribable. They were beings of fire with six wings, they had four heads and a body of a lion, wheels with wings and too many eyes. None of that was true of course, it was the only way the human mind had been able to process what they were seeing. Angels were burning light, radiating love and holy righteousness you felt them watching you, you felt their eyes but could not see any, touch feathers that weren't there. The closest Crowley had gotten to describing an Angel correctly was when he had a hand in the Pillars of Creation, it was a shame humans wouldn't be seeing they're full beauty until infrared would pick it up. Demons on the other hand were seen as dark beings, horned monstrosities relating to goats, dragons and of course serpents, there was that weird time too when humanity believed that disguised Demons were heavier than humans. Crowley had no idea how that thought had come into being, but he wasn't about to dissuade people from thinking up something idiotic. In truth Demons were darkness, a sucking black hole filled with despair and destruction. Humans who were sensitive, and there weren't a lot of them, but those who could see the true form of the occult and the ethereal would find themselves shirking away from Demons and strangely attracted to the presence of Angels. 

Crowley was nursing a hell of a headache; it wasn’t because of booze this time either. No, he had done something bad, something even he had never stooped to do. He had persuaded, tempted and compelled but he had never murdered. Could he classify it as murder? There was a body in the bar, and he had helped but he hadn’t kicked the guy’s face in that had been her. Well he was in deep shit now, probably not with his own office, they would be quite pleased, but upstairs was going to notice. Hopefully they would send their favourite Principality, he had a rapport with Aziraphale at least. Crowley looked down at his hands, there was still blood caked under his nails, some flecked on his wrists blending in with the red scales there. His sleeves were torn, he couldn’t cover them. The door to the bar opened, his tongue flicking out and Crowley could smell two things, the Divine and blood.

“Hello Angel, if you’ve come to discorporate me now is the time.” Crowley was looking utterly defeated and drowning himself in some unknown wine that smelt something awful.

“Yes, your scuffle with the bishop alerted upstairs.” Aziraphale sat down beside him taking a tentative sip of the wine Crowley had sprung into existence for him.

“Great.” Crowley deadpanned his eyes glancing to the Angel beside him, why was he here?

“Heaven’s your face!” Aziraphale leant forward, his hands gingerly cupping his chin before Crowley pulled his head away. “What happened my dear boy?”

“You don’t have to worry about the bishop, he’s going my way now.”

“What happened?”

“Where do I begin? The greatest fall of all time or the agonising punishment that followed?”

“Crowley, what are you talking about?” Aziraphale leant forward on the bar trying to get a read of his face.

“Just get up there and cause some trouble.” He drained his glass, by the time it hit the bar top it was filled again. “I take credit for every evil humanity has endured, every atrocity and for what? I don’t get anything in return except a pat on the back, just a _'good job Crowley, keep it up'_.”

“My dear, that’s your job.”

“It’s not as though I want people to suffer. Humanity may be many things, but they don’t deserve complete destruction.” Crowley was speaking more to his wine than to the Angel. “Even the people I trust, the one person I trust, could be hurt. I couldn’t risk that.”

“What did the bishop see?” Crowley was staring at Aziraphale, brows raised and a huff escaping. Did that really just go over the Angel's head?

“You. The real you. Guess he thought he’d have a free ride.” Crowley watched, his body tense as Aziraphale rose, curiosity drawing him beside the bar. A body, bruised, bitten and broken lay silent and unmoving on the floor.

“What did you do?”

“Too much, I’m afraid. I didn’t kill him.”

“Crowley, you’re a Demon.”

“Doesn’t make me a liar. Seriously Angel, I didn’t kill him.” The glass slammed on the bar top, but it did not refill itself this time. “I wanted to, constrict him within an inch of his life. I didn’t do it though you have to believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”

“That’s all that matters Aziraphale!”

“Crowley, relax. We can figure this out.”

“Can we?” He stood a sneer on his features. “Because I get the distinct feeling that you don’t trust me.”

“You’re a Demon!”

“So that automatically makes it my fault then?” He stormed towards the exit fiddling with his sleeves attempting to pull them down, eyes cast towards the floor. No glasses, he couldn’t be spotted. “You’re just like all the others!”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was on his heels trotting after him and trying to keep pace. “I don’t think you did it, but that was the bishop back there wasn’t it?”

“Possibly.”

“He’s a worshiper of _Her_ , you can’t go around attacking preachers!”

“Do you guys do background checks? 'cause you should really start.”

“What are you talking about?” Aziraphale, sweet naive Aziraphale. Crowley slowed his pace so the panicking Angel could follow without having to jog behind him. He was attracting too much unwanted attention and when people acted suspicious others noticed. There would be chaos once the body was discovered. Crowley hoped he would be long gone from here since then, this town gave him the creeps. Religious nuts seemed to flock here along with the regulars. The Demon didn’t have a problem with religion in general but like anything there were the extremes and Crowley did not want to bump into any of them, they probably wouldn’t take to kindly to him.

“Alright, truth time.”

“Truth, you?”

“Funny.” Crowley deadpanned. “I was there.”

“With the bishop?”

“I wasn’t the only one there though.” Crowley slowed before ducking into an alleyway, Aziraphale hesitated before following closely, his hand clutched at the Demon’s sleeve and he froze, his fingers coated with blood.

“Crowley…”

“Alright, don’t freak out!”

“A little late for that.”

“Please, look I’m begging here.” His hands were clasped together in mock prayer as he moved further into the alley stopping at a door and rapping on the sheet metal. “It’s me.”

“Crowley?” The voice was young, the door creaked open slowly, a pale face looked out at them from the darkness within. They saw the Angel and immediately retreated with fear on their face.

“This is my friend- “

“We’re not- “

“Aziraphale. He won’t hurt you.” Crowley smiled, a soft smile. “It’s going to be alright. Let us in.”

There was a little bit of his persuasion in those words, enough to calm the figure on the other side of the door and open it slowly to let them both in. There was a flickering candle in the corner casting an orange glow on the otherwise dark room. Two girls, ratty and blood covered were hidden within. One was young, no more than eight, her features frozen in horror and tears had streaked down her face. The other was much older, a young woman almost, her expression was stern, her hands clenched at her side. These were his murderers, well the elder one was the other was more of a victim and she stared up at him with fearful eyes. Crowley crouched low so he was eye level with her, she didn’t seem afraid of him even when he spoke some words and gently touched her wrist. Bruises that had flourished her skin quickly faded with her physical pain; the mental one he couldn’t heal.

“Crowley what are you doing?” Aziraphale was stuck trying to figure out the situation before him.

“You need to clean up.” The Demon ignored him, stepping over to the elder girl with a wave, the blood on her hands disappearing into the ether leaving her skin and clothes spotless. “It’s best if we all leave town.”

“Crowley, what’s going on?”

“That man attacked my sister!” Crowley hushed the girl.

“The bishop met you earlier today. Saw… well you.” Crowley indicated to Aziraphale with an exagerated hand gesture. “Thought he had a free ride upstairs after meeting you Angel. He attacked the little one. I helped, he died. Now he’s got a one-way trip to eternal torment.”

“You?”

“So hard to believe is it?”

“You did the right thing Crowley.”

“The wrong thing by my standards.” He muttered looking the little girl over once more, offering her his hand with a little enticing wiggle of his fingers.

“I’ve underestimated you.”

“You always do. Come on, help me get them out of the city.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale startled when the elder girl took his hand, a few steps in front of him and encouraging him out into the streets.

“Your friend is pretty.” The little girl whispered to Crowley; well it wasn’t whispering but she thought it was. Her fingers were idly tracing the smooth red scales on the underside of the Demon’s wrist, she wasn’t scared of them.

“I guess,” He looked over his shoulder at Aziraphale, all shining light filled with love and hope that was more than necessary. Too many people in this God forsaken town had enough sense to see the Angel for what he really was, a radiant being compressed into a flesh body with light bleeding through. Crowley was nervous, if people had been able to identify Aziraphale than it wouldn’t be too long before they saw him, the real him, the sucking black hole of despair and darkness clawing its way into a body it didn’t belong in. “he’s pretty in a way, but don't tell him, will go straight to his head."

"I can hear you." Aziraphale rolled his eyes as the little girl and Crowley shared a quiet laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thaks for the Kudos lovelies.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Heaven has no taste."  
> "Now-"  
> "And not one single sushi restaurant."  
> A look of pain crossed the angel's suddenly very serious face.” 
> 
> Surprise inspection! Sometimes drinks in the bookshop don't always have the same relaxing outcome. Silly little chapter but please enjoy.

“Listen Angel, no stop, listen to me.” Crowley whined.

“Yes, I’m listening, you’ve been talking for five minutes so I’ve been doing nothing but listen.”

“Have I? That doesn’t matter, what matters is… is… cats!”

“Cats?”

“Yes cats!”

“What about them?” Aziraphale leant back in his seat and watched the Demon.

“They’re bastards. All of them!”

“Did one hiss at you?”

“No.” Crowley pouted, “it scratched me!”

“Oh dear.” Aziraphale smiled, taking Crowley’s hand and running his thumb over the small scratches. “There all better.”

“Huh? Didn’t know ya could do that?”

“Of course, my dear, I’m an Angel.”

“Makes sense. Is that your thing?”

“My what?”

“Ya know, ya thing?” Crowley waved his hands as if that was enough explanation. Aziraphale’s confused drunken look showed that it wasn’t. “Like how I can… talk to people, can you do that?”

“No, that’s every Angel. I guess, they’re just not into helping humanity.”

“Shocker. So, what can you do?”

“A little bit of everything. I’m a Principality, I guess I’m…”

“A jack of all trades?”

“In a way I suppose.”

“How dull.”

“We can’t all manipulate humanity, some of us have to… how did you say it? Foment?”

“Oh, toss off.” Crowley muttered sipping at the port. Aziraphale stiffened, his grey blue coloured eyes had gone wide and he placed his glass down, his hands shaking. “Is something wrong Angel?”

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“Oh no-no-no-no!” Aziraphale jumped up, the glasses of port popped out of existence as he pulled Crowley to his feet. “You have to go!”

“What?”

“Crowley please!” The Angel shooed him towards the front of the shop. “Wait!”

“What?”

“You can’t go that way!”

“Wha- “

“Stop saying that!” Aziraphale gritted through his teeth, his words a hushed whisper. His hands grasped Crowley’s shoulders and steered him to the back room where he had only been seated minutes ago. “Hide!”

“What?” That wicked grin on the Demon’s face showed Aziraphale he was doing it on purpose now. He didn’t have time for his little games.

“Gabriel.”

“Oh… Oh no.”

“Hide!”

The little bell to the front of the bookstore jingled. His grey blue eyes met the Demon momentarily before he darted away smoothing his lapels and stumbling over some books, he had left out last night. He hit his hip on a shelf with a small cry as he huffed out a breath. In the doorway looking around in disgust was the Archangel Gabriel. His corporation was rather handsome, all done up in muted greys and whites, but honestly who thought purple was an appropriate eye colour for a human.

“Gabriel, what are you doing here?”

“I have come to check on our favourite Principality and how he is doing on Earth with these… dirt people.”

“Humans.” Aziraphale corrected. “It’s been awhile since Heaven has checked in. Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. Just making sure everything is going to plan.” He winked, Aziraphale just looked confused. Last time Gabriel had stopped in for a visit he had tried to promote Aziraphale to middle management.

“Yes, umm, right. Everything is going swimmingly…” His hands were wringing nervously by his side and he had to shove them into his pant pockets. What in the world was Gabriel going on about, what plan? The ineffable one? It was impossible that was ineffable, by definition it was unknown.

“Still haven’t changed your location I see.”

“Well central London and all, lots of passer-by’s, I hear a lot of things.” Aziraphale jumped forward his elbow hitting a shelf this time as he practically launched himself at Gabriel coming up short when he met the temper behind those purple eyes. “You can’t go in there…”

“Why?”

“Well, umm… well because… It’s most unclean Gabriel. Wouldn’t want to ruin that new suit, would you?”

“I can always get another suit Aziraphale.” Gabriel ducked his head as he entered the backroom. Aziraphale waited to hear the accusing words of traitor but they never came. After a few moments he followed suit and ducked into the darkness. The lights were off but there was an earie glow cast over the room by a small oil lamp flickering in the corner. “Why does it smell in here?”

“Smell? Smell of what?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I did say it was awfully messy, dust builds up…”

“I don’t care.” Gabriel snapped. Aziraphale made a face behind him. His eyes darted around the room looking for anything vaguely Crowley shaped. He hoped the Demon had atomised himself into a crack somewhere or simply escaped out the back door. He wasn’t stupid enough to -oh God- he was. There slithering on top the dusty old bookshelf was a great black and red snake, its tongue lazily tasting the air. Gabriel would see him.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale hissed under his breath and made a mad leap for the serpent in question who simply coiled out of reach.

“I didn’t know you liked snakes.” Gabriel, always judgemental Gabriel. He was dead, might as well discorporate him now.

“I don’t.” Aziraphale met Crowley’s eyes with a glare, if a snake could look shocked the Demon had managed it.

“Then care to explain?”

“It’s…research… Yes! Research!” Aziraphale looked sheepishly up at Gabriel, the Archangel obviously expecting more. “Umm, the Demon, Crowley… you see Crowley is a serpent and I thought… umm I thought I could get into the inner workings of his mind by observing. Observations! Yes, that will allow me to see into that fiend’s clever plans!”

“Right…” Gabriel broke the silence. Aziraphale’s eyes flicked to Crowley and he could swear the snake was laughing at him. “You are aware that this is just a snake?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale watched Crowley slither down the bookshelf and up the back of the old lumpy couch where he had been seated before. “I see.”

“Just get rid of it Aziraphale. Disgusting creatures.” Gabriel flinched as Crowley hissed at him and poised as if to strike.

“Yes of course!” Aziraphale threw a cushion on top of Crowley to break the eye contact between him and the Archangel.

“I’ll check in with you again soon. It’s exciting times Aziraphale!” Gabriel was gone in a flourish of coat tails and some cologne that hadn’t been in production for eighty years.

“Please call first!” Aziraphale watched him go. There would be no phone call, but on the bright side it would probably be a few decades before he checked in again. “Do you know what he was talking about? Something about a plan?”

 _‘Beatss me.’_ Crowley was slowly working his way out from underneath the cushion. What they didn’t know was as of tomorrow Crowley would receive a little bundle of joy from two Demons who were fantastic at lurking in graveyards.

“You could have gotten me banished!” Aziraphale groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he slumped down onto the lumpy couch. Crowley’s tongue flickered against his skin and he shooed him away.

_‘They wouldn’t banish you. Takess a lot more now days.’_

“You are a fool.” Aziraphale’s hands were covering his face as he tried to regulate his breathing, something that he didn’t really require but it made him feel slightly better. Crowley hissed beside him slithering slowly onto his lap, Aziraphale was too shell shocked from Gabriel’s visit to swat him away.

_‘A fool that managed to not be ssseen, in a ssense.’_

“Just because Gabriel is stupid doesn’t mean you can do this all the time. What if we were discussing secret plans? Explain to me why I trust you?” Aziraphale was frazzled, his hands falling to his lap and onto Crowley’s heavy body. His fingers idly traced the scaled pattern.

_‘Well, a long time ago, in a garden there wass a handsome clever ssserpent.’_

“I think I’ve heard this one before.”

_‘How about no ssstoriess?’_

“What do you propose?”

 _‘Well… you are rather warm.’_ Crowley curled up tighter on the Angel’s lap under his stirring hands, tongue flicking out and a wicked grin.

“We’re not going to make a habit of this.” Aziraphale ran his hands down the smooth dry scales but he didn’t force Crowley to move. Sitting back further into the couch cushions he sighed running Gabriel’s conversation through his head over again. He worded any confusion to the Demon on his lap but eventually Crowley had stopped responding, his long chest rising and falling with each breath. Something was happening and Aziraphale had a bad feeling that everything he had ever worked towards, accumulated and loved were about to pop out of existence. He looked down at the serpent, feeling a tug of something that made him swallow past the lump in his throat. He didn't want to lose anyhting he had fought hard to keep in his long life, and strangely that included Crowley. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely people who left kudos.
> 
> It means the world to me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aziraphale. The Enemy, of course. But an enemy for six thousand years now, which made him a sort of friend.” 
> 
> Aziraphale has only gotten blind drunk twice in his life. Once when he had first been tempted into drinking wine. This is the second.

Crowley couldn’t understand something about Hell, they were all for temptation, they were all for doing something bad and yet Hell was a smoke free zone? It just made no sense to have to walk to the gates just to light up a smoke. The Demon had taken up the act back in the early sixteen hundred and he had quickly tempted the Angel into it who had rather enjoyed it just like he had appreciated wine. Sometimes it was just too easy and the both had relished the act over the ages. Crowley still enjoyed a cigarette, in a way, he kept up with the latest fashion and the latest brand but Aziraphale still every now and then after a few drinks would light up a pipe like the old soul he was. Neither of them had to worry about the dangers that it caused, their bodies weren’t exactly normal, although the Angel did feel bad about the times Crowley had somehow convinced Doctors to recommend them.

They both sat in the bookshop, drinking wine and smoking on occasion. They huffed about the strict no smoking rules in both departments and chatted into the night. The bottles began to pile up around them, clinking on the floor with Crowley picking off the labels with idle fingertips. The Angel was really letting loose tonight, drinking more than his fair share and giggling madly, he loved seeing him like this, enjoying the world and the stupid little things it offered. It was hours before Crowley decided to sober up, the first of them to do so, wine returned to the bottles and he bid the Angel farewell so he could stumble back home in the Bentley in peace.

The apartment’s warm air rushed to meet Crowley as he stepped over the threshold, he marched in with boots but the moment his feet touched the ground again they were bare, he was very good at a little demonic intervention when needed and right now he was smashed and wanted nothing more to do than to curl up and sleep off a hangover. Plants trembled as Crowley passed, he hissed at them, but it didn’t have his usual bite to it, and they settled once he had passed them into the bedroom. The Demon slumped back into the sheets, feeling the Egyptian Cotton smooth against his scales as he finally sighed, leaning back to close his eyes, he could still smell the cigarette smoke, stale and stagnant and sticking to his skin and causing his mouth to feel like dirt. Another miracle, his mouth felt slightly better, his skin slightly cleaner, he could finally sleep.

His doorbell rang and Crowley snarled.

“What now? I swear if it’s that obnoxious little brat from downstairs I’m going to give him nightmares for a week.” The Demon pulled himself out of his bed, the tiles warm under his bare toes as he stalked towards the door ripping it open. “What?”

“Hello.”

“Aziraphale? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

“I…” No, he couldn’t come in. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thank you.” The Angel slid past him, a stagger in his step as he migrated towards the couch. “Got any wine?”

“No.”

“Oh…”

“I have scotch.”

“That’ll do.”

“Will it?” Crowley raised a brow but produced the glasses and decanter anyway moving to sit beside the Angel offering him the crystal tumbler of golden liquor. “Why are you here?”

“Night was still young.”

“For you.” Crowley sighed sipping at his scotch and laying back into the couch cushions. He had been so warm in bed, his couch, as comfortable as it could be was just a substitute for the real thing. Entertaining the Angel for now shouldn’t be too hard considering Aziraphale seemed to be too drunk to hold a conversation.

“Sorry to intrude on your night Crowley.”

“It’s alright Angel. Drink up. I’m not one to judge.”

The conversation began to flow once the scotch did, they fell back into their ordinary routine except for Crowley eyeing the Angel suspiciously. This was so out of character that he didn’t know what to make of the situation, whether he should be distrustful or worried. Since when did he worry about the Angel? Aziraphale rose, ambling around the stone apartment and simply running his hands over the smooth surfaces, he wasn’t here often and when he was it was a quick visit as Crowley loved his privacy, right now he didn’t have the heart to throw him out.

“Your plants are beautiful.”

“Don’t tell them that!” Crowley snapped from the couch.

“Why?”

“You’ll make them complacent.” Aziraphale’s confused look caused the Demon to roll his eyes, he wasn’t about to get into a conversation about botany with him. Although it looked like he wouldn’t have too. Aziraphale had found the sculpture and was giving it a weary glance.

“Is this us?”

“I guess in a way.” Crowley shrugged rising slowly from the couch to stand beside the Angel and look at the worn stone. “Had an artist commission it a while back, evil triumphing over good.”

“Are they having sex?”

“Hell no! Satan’s sake Angel, get your mind out of the gutter.” Crowley snarled before moving back to the couch with a huff. Aziraphale had stayed a moment longer looking the statue over once more before moving to join the Demon. That had been awkward.

Who knew when Aziraphale was drunk that he got handsy, he was clingy and hugging him. Crowley continued to push him away with a huff before finally resigning, he had let his wings loose and the Angel was combing his fingers through the inky feathers in a drunken stupor. They were a little too close for Crowley’s comfort, he was practically leaning on Aziraphale’s lap so he could reach the soft feathers without it being more awkward than it already was. Crowley’s chest was pressing against Aziraphale’s thighs, he was leaning up slightly so he could still drink and flip through the current magazine he had conjured. The Demon didn’t read, but he could appreciate the pictures of antique cars. One wing was tucked close to his back, sandwiched between his side and Aziraphale’s stomach, the other was draped over the nearby coffee table. The Angel’s fingers were running drunkenly through his scapulars, every now and then his fingers would glide across Crowley’s scales causing him to shiver slightly.

“You’re very beautiful Crowley.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“No really, you are.”

“Are you hitting on me Angel?” Crowley chuckled but the curious look on Aziraphale’s face stopped him, it died awkwardly in his throat. He rolled over slightly to take in those grey eyes. “Oh, my Satan! You are!”

“I am not.”

“Sweet Hells!” Crowley lifted himself up, his wings disappearing into the ether as he sat back on his heels to study the flushing Angel. “I’m flattered, really, but I can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“You’re too drunk Aziraphale, also… I don’t think it’s a good idea, do you?” Crowley didn’t want to make the night more awkward than it had become. He sat back, cross legged on the couch offering the Angel another drink and trying to steer the conversation to a safer area for them both. This was going to be a long night.

\--- 

“Oh no.” Aziraphale woke up in an all too familiar stark room on a large bed that’s sheets felt like they were made from clouds. None of this belonged to him. That wasn’t even the worst of it, the worst was that he was naked, completely starkers under the covers and he knew all too well whose room this was. “No. No. Oh God, what have I done?”

“Don’t worry I’m sure They're the forgiving type. Well except for us Fallen.” Crowley was sitting at a chair in the corner, dressed perfectly with his glasses propped onto his face to hide the mischief within his eyes. He indicated to a small table next to him. “So triple espresso or more alcohol?”

“Oh, God…” The Angel whined. Crowley lifted the flask and added it to the small coffee. “We didn’t… Tell me we didn’t.” 

“Did we?” The Demon chuckled darkly, raising slowly and languid like the snake he was as he approached the bed and moved up it towards Aziraphale with the Irish coffee balanced precariously in his fingertips. As he moved, slow and deliberate Aziraphale had darted up to the doorway clutching the sheet. “It was extraordinary.”

“This is bad. You can’t tell anyone!”

“What, that we didn’t do the nasty?” Crowley smirked as he took a sip of his coffee.

“W-We didn’t?”

“Nope,” The serpent popped the ‘p’ with joy.

“But you’re a Demon, you had a chance to sleep with me, and you didn’t?”

“Contrary to popular belief Angel, I find the whole idea of sex rather disgusting. I may be a Demon but I’m not an Inncubus.”

“Why-why am I naked?” Aziraphale backed out of the doorway slightly into the stark living room seeing his clothes rumpled on the floor. If the plants were trembling, he didn’t notice.

“What, you don’t remember the part where you got absolutely plastered, passed out, woke up again, told me that it was _‘too hot in this hell hole’_ , then tore off your clothes and hogged my bed?” Crowley had moved off the bed and had taken the Angel’s place in the doorway.

“I would never!”

“Ya did.” Stated, matter of fact.

“I was upset! I’ve been praying to Her, to anyone and they haven’t answered. I feel like I’ve lost my connection. You would be upset too if you lost your connection to God.” Aziraphale muttered as he shimmied on his trousers beneath the sheet before dropping it entirely to put his shirt on.

“Quite the contrary. Is that why you came over last night?” Crowley finished the coffee and followed the Angel into the living room watching him search around frantically for his bow tie.

“You are the Devil.” Aziraphale didn’t answer his question.

“Incorrect.”

“Ok, last night never happened.” Aziraphale snatched the bow tie Crowley was holding and pulled off a respective scowl of his own.

“Right.” Crowley agreed with delight as he watched the Angel storm for the door. “You snore by the way!”

“Shut up.” The door slammed.

Crowley chuckled looking at the state of his apartment, there were various alcohol bottles littered around, the smell of a stale cigarettes lingering in the air. With a wave of his hands the mess disappeared. Aziraphale coming around last night to get completely smashed had been new for them, normally it was dinner and a couple of drinks, never to this degree. What ever he was going through must have really thrown him for a loop. Crowley could relate, he had drunken himself stupid quite a few times. Aziraphale had only done it twice, once when he was first introduced to wine and had nearly drunk himself to death, Crowley had laughed at that one. But this time, it was serious. Aziraphale never sought him out, it was always him invading the bookshop.

“Well fuck.” Crowley swept up his jacket and took the stairs two at a time to catch up with Aziraphale. He burst onto the street and didn’t hesitate with his direction, there was only one place the Angel would go to. He could see him now, hard not to what with the clothes about one hundred years too late and that head of white blonde hair. “Angel, wait!”

“Crowley?”

“Look that was a shitty thing to do alright?”

“To trick me.”

“Yeah.” Crowley closed the distance between them, his shoulders brushing the Angel’s as they walked down the street, any onlookers had turned away by now. He was surprised the Aziraphale was upset about the _trick_ and not about him denying any sort of advance in their partnership. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“I want to hear you say it.” Aziraphale had stopped, facing the Demon with his brows raised, a woman huffed as she had to walk around them. Crowley was looking down his nose at the ground, his toe scuffing the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry.” Demons didn’t apologise, but Crowley would say anything to see Aziraphale smile again.

“Apology accepted.”

“So… Since we’re up, breakfast?”

“I would be delighted! There’s a new bakery that has opened up on Wardour street that I’ve been dying to try.”

“Lead the way.” Crowley made a sweeping gesture as he fell into step beside the Angel. “Why does a horse have gifts?”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s a saying or something… I don’t get it.”

“I don’t get a lot of things humanity does.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for their lovely kudos <3
> 
> A special shout out to Reidluver for their lovely comments. Thank you so much.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are we talking about this good and evil? They're just names for sides. We know that.” 
> 
> Both Heaven and Hell learn about new things everyday.
> 
> More snake Crowley

Aziraphale was not supposed to be here, if Heaven found out he could be in big trouble. He had already copped a warning last month about not reporting back on time and he wasn’t about to repeat that mistake. No, Heaven was not going to find out about this, because if he had to sit through something like the great flood again and do absolutely nothing it would tear him up inside. Especially after he had found out that Crowley of all Demons had managed to save some people and children back during the storm. He couldn’t have that happening again, it would make Heaven look bad surely. During the time here though Aziraphale had found it increasingly difficult to get the inhabitants to move out of town, some had listened, others had stayed putting down his ravings to a mad man. How was he supposed to warn an entire town of people about something they had never even heard of?

It didn’t matter though, the whole plan had backfired in his face, quite literally and people were starting to run for their lives. It would be too late for most of them now, the ash had begun to fall, and it would only be a matter of time before the whole town was buried. Aziraphale ducked between two houses to take a breather, he had to get out of here. Something smooth brushed up against him, with a start he looked down and cocked his head to the side.

“Crowley?” The large serpent stopped and tilted his head.

_‘Angel.’_

“What are you doing here, and it that form?” Aziraphale’s voice was shocked as he crouched low to the ground feeling it rumble beneath his fingers, like a growl deep within the planets core. They didn’t have much time and what was the Angel doing here anyway? Crowley had popped in for a little bit of temptation and next thing he knew the place was falling apart.

_‘The city iss in ruinss, no one iss going to notice a sssnake ssslithering around.’_

“You’ll get trampled or crushed!” Another rumble almost knocked Aziraphale down but his wings flared for a moment to balance him.

_‘Don’t be an idiot, I’m fine.’_

“Come here!”

_‘What?’_

“Come here.” Aziraphale lowered his hand palm up in front of him, it was a safe gesture, Crowley recognised it to appeal to the snake coiled within him. He was stunned for a moment his tongue darting to the soft hand before he slowly slithered his way forwards. Aziraphale’s skin was warm and Crowley’s scales were cool and happy enough to soak up the heat. He wormed his way under the Angel’s loose sleeve, weaving his body slowly around the pale torso; Aziraphale smelt like cinnamon, sharp musk with just a hint of nervous energy. Crowley clung to him, his grip constricting on warm skin, his head nestling just beneath the curls on the Angel’s neck.

_‘Why are you helping me?’_

“You’re not suppose to be here Crowley.” Aziraphale tugged at his thick scaled body beneath his robes, “you don’t have to be so close.”

_‘I thought you didn’t like sssnakess?’_

“I love them.”

_‘Really?’_

“I love all of God’s creations.”

 _‘And you ruined it.’_ Crowley’s tongue flicked against the warm silk like skin.

“Stop that!”

 _‘What?’_ His tongue flicked again.

“That!” Aziraphale clawed at him slightly under his robes trying to lessen the tightness across his chest. Crowley coiled tighter a wicked grin on his scaled lips. “Crowley please stop doing that.”

_‘What, sssmelling?’_

“Yes… I suppose.” Aziraphale pouted, realising how stupid his request had been, he had stopped trying to uncoil the serpent and instead he clutched absently at his chest. The Angel ducked his way through the frightened citizens and crumbling rubble. Crowley had been quite happy to stick to the shadows and escape the danger, Aziraphale seemed to be all panic, breaths that he didn’t need to take came in short puffs and as he fled, he still tried to help some of the people. “What happened to your wings my dear boy?”

 _‘They’re not really up for flying.’_ Crowley would have been embarrassed with their state if he had even looked at them in the last fifty years.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” Aziraphale ducked into a small gap between two houses, the rough surface scraping against his skin, Crowley could feel it against his scales through the material of the Angel’s robes. A group of frightened people trample passed where they had just been. Humans were awfully selfish when they were panicked.

 _‘Haven’t ssseen the need.’_ Crowley hissed, tongue flicking against the Angel’s earlobe as he settled further into the mess of golden curls. _‘From what I remember yourss didn’t look too flash either.’_

“No time for grooming I’m afraid. I’ve been very busy recently.”

_‘Busy with what?’_

“I can’t tell you that.”

_‘Because the plan iss ineffable… I get it.’_

“Well, yes, it is rather… Look Crowley, you weren’t supposed to be here.” Aziraphale peered out of the alcove he was hiding in, yelping slightly and jumping back as a large rock slammed into the dirt at his feet. Clutching Crowley, he took off at a run shouldering his way through crowds and dodging what he could. “Do you know how hard it is to evacuate an entire city?”

_‘Evacuate… You don’t want thiss to happen?’_

“I don’t want people to needlessly die.”

 _‘Like the arc all over again.’_ Crowley coiled instinctively tighter when he felt a human jostle into Aziraphale, he hissed, mouth wide, fangs bared only to have the Angel push his head back beneath the collar of his robes and dart out into the open fields where crops burnt around them. His wings popped, the sound of air rushing away from the void they filled. White and gold feathers skewed and bent but still somehow, they were glorious. _‘I could help you. With grooming that iss, after all thiss…’_

“Definitely not! What would Gabriel think?” Wind filled with heat and ash kicked up around them as the Angel struggled to take off, his wings were great for soaring long distances but on a flat open surface like this it took him time to gain lift.

_‘I don’t believe Gabriel iss competent enough to think. Great at taking orderss though.’_

“Crowley!”

_‘Offer ssstill ssstandss Angel.’_

“You mean temptation.”

 _‘No, I mean offer.’_ The teasing lilt wasn’t in Crowley’s words, between the ash and heat he swore he saw the Angel glance back at him. _‘Sssuit yourself. It wass just a sssugestion.’_

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

_‘Why not?’_

“Well, you’re the enemy for starters.”

 _‘Am I? Oh no, whatever will I do?’_ Crowley flicked his tongue out in agitation.

“I will drop you.”

_‘That’ss not very Angel like of you.’_

“Don’t tempt me.”

 _‘It’ss what I do.’_ Just to be sure Crowley coiled himself tighter, he could feel the cold wind whistling beneath Aziraphale’s robes and over his scales. The heat from the air had gone, they were probably far enough away from danger now. _‘If you don’t like my proposal, I have another one. Dinner, drinkss on you?’_

“That sounds lovely.”

_‘Ssso dinner with a Demon iss alright just not grooming?’_

“They are two very different things.” Aziraphale’s wings angled to catch the wind, slowing their descent. His landings were less than graceful, his feet stumbling slightly as he doubled over to catch his breath. Crowley uncoiled, his muscles tense from holding on as he slithered his way down the sleeve of the Angel’s robe and onto the cool hard ground. He reformed, stretching up to height, his scales becoming flesh and cloth covering that.

“Dinner?”

“That would be delightful. Oh, I do hope those people will be alright.”

“Some of them made it out. What’s the reason this time?”

“You know, I’m not sure.” They both looked out over the burning village, hot ash burying the inhabitants to forever live their last gasping breaths in a torturous moment.

“So, what’s that called then?”

“A volcano.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely kudos. Also I've decided to add another chapter so it'll be 16 in total


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aziraphale collected books. If he were totally honest with himself he would have to have admitted that his bookshop was simply somewhere to store them. He was not unusual in this. In order to maintain his cover as a typical second-hand book seller, he used every means short of actual physical violence to prevent customers from making a purchase. Unpleasant damp smells, glowering looks, erratic opening hours - he was incredibly good at it.” 
> 
> Just a very short and cute little chapter. I had to write Aus into it, what being from there myself and I do love our local wildlife and Crowley had to have a hand in some of it didn't he?

“Where have you been?” Aziraphale gasped at the sight of Crowley. He hadn’t seen the Demon in a over a year and he was looking a little worse for wear. He was dirty, dreadfully so, but he didn’t seem to mind that his clothes were rumpled, his wings were slightly askew, and feathers fell to the ground.

“Oh, around.”

“Around?”

“I’ve been to the new colony.”

“Van Diemen’s Land?”

“Yeah, thought I’d see what all the fuss was about. Actually, wasn’t too bad of a voyage.” Crowley wouldn’t admit that the reason the ships had all _practically_ survived and the death toll had been so small was because he had a hand in it. He had been to the new land originally a few years prior when the Dutch had first discovered it, but the curiosity of watching a settlement grow from what was essentially convicts, lazy crew members and a few drunk marines was too good to pass on.

“You’ve been with the convicts?”

“Oh, don’t talk like that, I didn’t need to do any tempting. They’re all guilty of petty little acts anyway.” Crowley stretched his rumpled wings slightly before they disappeared behind him and he approached the Angel looking around at the empty building he was in. “What is this place?”

“Just looking for suitable locations.”

“For the bookshop?”

“For the bookshop.” Aziraphale winced slightly as Crowley slumped onto the ground. If the Demon had flown the entire way back, he was certainly going to be sore. “Do you mind?”

“What?” Crowley winced as the Angel waved his hand, dirt evaporated, his clothes stitching themselves together and the rumples smoothed themselves out. “Yeah, cool…”

“Crowley, why were you there? You look like… well Hell.”

“Curiosity. I met the natives, awesome bunch. Have you seen the animals down there? There’s a beaver that has a bill and lays eggs.”

“Yes, a platypus.”

“You do know them!”

“Crowley are you drunk?”

“I wish. They weren’t too happy about sharing their booze.”

“They thought you were a convict!” Aziraphale’s remark was filled with a little too much glee, enough for Crowley to give him a look of disdain from his crumpled position on the floor.

“Yeah I may have fucked up.”

“Language.” He scolded, “wait, what do you mean?”

“There may be a teeny-tiny new species.” At least he had the mind to look sheepish.

“You what? Why? How? Actually, don’t tell me.”

“It was a while ago; I went this time to check up ya know and well…” Crowley shrugged. “I do like snakes.”

“I bet you do.”

“Not in _that_ way Angel! Just a bit of occult intervention then bam!" Crowley imitated an explosion with his long fingers. "New species.”

“What have you done?” Aziraphale sighed, a glass appeared in front of him, it might have been scotch and he might have thrown it back with a little more vigour before he even offered one to his Demonic counterpart.

“They’re cute, venomous too!”

“I don’t want to know Crowley. Because if I know then I must report it and if I report it some poor snakes are going to suffer from genocide when they send Sandalphon down to deal with it. I just hope you haven’t unbalanced the perfect ecosystem.”

Months had passed after that initial encounter, that had soon turned to years and the next time Aziraphale had seen Crowley he was rescuing him from a French Revolution, and they had crepes. The bookshop had found a more permanent location in Soho, its doors had been opened and he finally had a place he could call home. It had also come in handy when he and Crowley wanted to meet up, as far as he knew the Demon was still galivanting around the place and hadn’t settled down anywhere. Their meetings over time became less about work and more about catching up, having a few drinks, sobering up and then parting ways. Aziraphale didn’t know when this had become the norm, but he didn’t seem to mind the shift in their dynamic.

Aziraphale was organising books in his shop, he had the sign firmly saying closed and so far, he had no customers, although he would probably have to change up his opening hours to discourage them further. His fingers hesitated on the spine of an old large leatherback and his shoulders slumped. Heading into the kitchen he set the kettle to boil, pulled out two cups, one english breakfast the other earl grey. Within moments he heard the slam of the door, the bell wobbling on its hinges as Crowley called for him. The tea bags were diffusing when the Demon found him in the little kitchenette, a large book clutched to his chest and his face practically lit up with glee. This wasn’t going to be good.

“Got you a present Angel! For your shop. First edition and everything!”

“Crowley that’s sweet.” Aziraphale breathed out a patient sigh as the Demon slammed the book on the countertop open to a certain page. He offered him his tea. “Hope you didn’t steal it.”

“No stealing here! Just made him rewrite his life’s work and give me the original.” That wasn’t any better. “Got him to sign it for you. George Shaw’s, Zoology of New Holland.”

“That’s very kind of you my dear, but I don’t…” Aziraphale stopped, his hand falling to the page Crowley had opened it to, his fingers running delicately over a drawing of a small red and black snake. “Is this you?”

“What? No Angel, don’t be daft!”

“These are that accidental species, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. Cute huh?”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale’s eyes ran over the text, his fingers tracing the flat like head and the red and black scales. “It says they’re not poisonous!”

“Venomous.”

“Oh whatever! Crowley people could die!”

“They’ll learn soon enough. Oh, come on Angel, don’t look at me like that. Look,” he pointed to the page. “Not an aggressive species, typically withdrawing when approached.”

“You are incorrigible.” Aziraphale sighed, he flipped through the pages, new species to humans were quite fascinating and he found it intriguing to say the least. He knew Crowley only gave him the book to gloat, but he appreciated the gift anyway.

“So, you like?”

“Yes, I like.” He closed the book and pushed Crowley’s tea towards him with a fond smile.

“Job well done then. You get a book; I get to be proud of the cutest creatures in the world.”

“I guess you do.” Aziraphale watched the Demon hide his smirk behind the teacup. He had grown fond of Crowley over the years but there was more affection towards him after the French Revolution. He didn’t have to save him, yet he came anyway, the love, because Aziraphale couldn't describe it as anything else, frightened him at first, he was the enemy afterall. Couldn't be helped, he was a being of love he supposed, and it was just natural to encompass Crowley in those feelings as well. “Next time you decided to do something like this, please tell me.”

“Alright, I promise.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the kudos. A special thanks again to Reidluver for the comments. They make me smile. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, I loved writing it but I do have a soft spot for red-bellied black snakes ever since I saw one by our dam as a kid, very beautiful creatures.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards.” 
> 
> Crowley's fall is not something he looks on with fondness but Aziraphale is curious to know anyway.

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?” The Demon was sipping languidly at a glass of scotch, their lunch had been perfect as always and now the two of them would drink the afternoon away until one of them decided to sober up, usually the Angel. Aziraphale sat across from him, he was doing that odd quirk of his where he would wring his hands together as a nervous habit.

“What, umm what was it like?”

“What are you talking about Angel?”

“Oh, right, well... when you fell from Heaven?” Aziraphale had swallowed past the lump in his throat. Crowley had lowered his glasses slightly and was looking over the rim of the tinted glass in visible confusion.

“Is that a terrible pick up line?”

“Oh… no, that’s not what I meant. Oh, that’s embarrassing, like I would ever! We’re enemies, not even friends, no, not for one minute are we friendly…” Aziraphale quietened down when the Demon shushed him.

“You want to know? Why?”

“Curiosity.”

“That’s what got me kicked out in the first place.” Crowley grumbled around his scotch before shotting it back. “I’m not going to discuss it here, yours or mine?”

“I have some books to categorise…”

“Yours it is, I’ll pick up the bill.”

“Please actually pay this time.”

“You’re no fun.” Crowley grumbled pulling out a wallet and a wad of cash that probably hadn’t been obtained legally. Well he had won these in a recent poker game, if there was a little tempting for the other players to live a little with such terrible hands that wasn’t on him. The Angel was waiting by the Bentley and with a wave of his arms the doors popped open, the engine kicking over.

They travelled in silence, well almost silence, Queen whispered quietly over the radio and Aziraphale would gasp slightly telling him to slow down or watch out every now and then. After years of this you would have thought he could manage a fifteen-minute trip. The Bentley didn’t really get caught in traffic, there was always a way to go, always a space available to park. Neither Crowley or Aziraphale ever brought up the luck the Bentley seemed to create, and both were quite thankful for it. Truth was over the years the old machine had absorbed a little bit of the occult and a little bit of the ethereal; the good travel and parks were from Crowley, wishing lights green and ways clear, the fact that the Bentley had never hit anyone and humanity always had little miraculous escapes, that was Aziraphale.

It screeched to a halt outside the bookstore in Soho, once again a space available in a no parking zone and Crowley sauntered out, opening the door for his companion, ever the gentleman. The bookshop was unlocked, the curtains down to stop any nosy lookers coming inside, Aziraphale did everything to distract customers and it was quite fascinating to see him become frustrated. Crowley had once explained that a point of a shop was to exchange goods and services for money and if the old bastard didn’t want to part with anything, he should have opened a library instead. They settled into the backroom popping open a decanter of whiskey and Aziraphale offering him two fingers and forcing Crowley to sit down. The couch was overstuffed and extremely uncomfortable, the Angel seemed to sink into it whilst Crowley was more than happy to sit on its arm and lean forward over the cushions.

“Did it hurt?” Aziraphale asked after Crowley had taken his first shot and with a little miracle the whiskey was refilled.

“What?”

“The fall?”

“You still on about that?” He threw back his shot, number two, number three refilling before his eyes. “If you want to know Aziraphale, it was the single most painful experience of my entire life. It comes in at a close second.”

“What does?”’

“This conversation.”

“Crowley!”

“Honestly Angel, what do you want me to say? That I enjoyed it? That the boiling hot pool of sulphur was just a day spa?

“Come now my dear, when am I ever going to get the chance to question a Demon willing to talk about it?” Another shot refilled the Demon’s glass, Crowley’s fourth, Aziraphale still nursing his first. It was a low thing to do, demonic almost, he knew Crowley got talkative when drunk, so a few more and he would speak his mind. The Angel watched as he removed his glasses to rub at the bridge of his thin nose. Those eyes were so fascinating, but the view was brief, nothing more than tinted glass staring at him again.

“Having my Grace, my connection to Heaven and to Them ripped from my very being was as if I had lost a piece of myself.” Two more shots. “That’s something I can never get back. That light, that love is circling the dark drain within me and I can’t pull it free.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Can’t help curiosity huh?”

“What was your Angelic name?”

“I don’t remember, don’t think I ever can. It unravelled from me, lost in the darkness along with Their love. Everything that I had ever been… gone.” Shot number six went down a little too smooth. “I fell for what felt like an eternity, I was met with screams of pain and burning liquid, my Grace, my light burnt from me. I wriggled free of my shackles crawling onto land as a serpent, I spent years hiding within Hell relearning myself, forming myself.”

“Crawly.”

“Forever cursed to crawl on my belly.” Crowley scoffed. “I just got mixed up in the wrong crowd. Lucifer was always really convincing…”

“Something you seem to excel at as well.”

“I try not too… sometimes, can’t help it.” He was six double shots in and Aziraphale was reluctant to fill the glass again.

“Have you ever… you know, on me?”

“No…. no! Never. Well I mean I tried once, back before everything. Didn’t work, just assumed because you’re an Angel and all that.”

“Possibly.” Aziraphale briefly tried to recall the time, but it was so long ago and who was keeping track anymore. He plugged up the decanter and pulled it away from Crowley’s grasp. The Demon pouted, made a movement to snatch it back but gave up the instant he was unsuccessful. “How about you stay tonight Crowley? Go home when you sober up.”

“What on this lumpy couch?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’ve never slept on it!”

“And you have?”

“What! No!” Crowley made another snatch for the decanter, Aziraphale held him at arm’s length those grey eyes studying him. “Maybe, ok yes I have.”

“When?” He watched Crowley slump onto the cushions face down, his voice muffled.

“You weren’t here. I don’t know eighteen hundred or so. Thought I might look after it for you.”

“You opened the shop?”

“Once or twice. I was bored!”

“Oh my…. You didn’t sell anything did you?” Aziraphale had poured himself half a glass of whiskey and slamming it back.

“No.”

“Oh, thank Heavens!”

“Can I have another?” Crowley smirked when the Angel absently poured him another glass as he too slammed it back enjoying the burning sensation in the back of his throat and the fire it would ignite in his belly. The glass tumbled to the ground Crowley’s face back to being buried in the dusty material of the couch. “I’ll just stay, here shall I?”

“Yes of course. Don’t touch anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Too old and stuffy for me anyway.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Likewise, Angel.” Crowley laid back on his side, feeling the lump of the couch stick into his bony hips. Aziraphale had retreated upstairs probably to read all night. The Angel didn’t sleep unlike his Demon counterpart. He didn’t know what he was missing out on. Silence sat heavy in the bookshop, the noises outside muffled by the old windows and walls. Crowley couldn’t sleep here; this couch was going to be the final thing that would kill him. He stood arching his back and hearing his spine pop with relief. Slinking up the stairs Crowley saw the Angel sitting at a desk and shockingly he was categorising books in his neat handwriting. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed the Demon at first, but he knew he was there.

“Can I help you my dear?”

“I’m sleeping in your bed.”

“If you must.”

“Oh, I must. That couch needs to be burned!”

“Don’t you dare!” Aziraphale reprimanded, standing slowly from his chair and approaching Crowley carefully. The Demon was staggering on his feet, it was a mix of his normal hypnotising swagger and about the seven glasses of whiskey he had earlier. Aziraphale reached up and delicately removed Crowley’s glasses, honestly why did he take them everywhere? He folded them neatly and placed them on the desk next to his cup of tea. He went to object and Aziraphale simply silenced him with a firm palm to his chest and pushed backwards. Crowley fell onto the bed with a soft thud and a whimper of indignation.

“Go to sleep Crowley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely kudos and comments.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They seemed to have a talent for it. It was built into the design, somehow. They were born into a world that was against them in a thousand little ways, and then devoted most of their energies to making it worse. Over the years Crowley had found it increasingly difficult to find anything demonic to do which showed up against the natural background of generalized nastiness.” 
> 
> Crowley goes missing and Aziraphale finds him once again drunk off his arse.

Aziraphale wasn’t worried about a Demon, not at all, the fact that Crowley was missing was a good thing, he didn’t have to know what he was doing every second of the day. It wasn’t as if they caught up with each other on the regular, he hadn’t seen him throughout the entire fourteenth century later finding out that the Demon had practically slept through the entire thing. Then there was the Spanish Inquisition that the Demon took credit for even though he had been in small cantina's at the time and had nothing to do with it. He had also apologised that one time he had a hand in the burning of Alexandria Library. Aziraphale had avoided Crowley for almost one hundred years after that one.

The strange thing was, they were supposed to do lunch four days ago and even though it was the Demon’s shout, he hadn’t shown. That had been enough to put a ruffle in Aziraphale’s feathers, Crowley had never missed a lunch before, had skipped out on the bill several times so the thought of paying hadn't been the issue. The Angel had gone to the Demon’s flat, some place that didn’t feel like home and was stark with nothing in there but a bed. It was a dump, Crowley had moved around a lot, so he didn’t see the point in anything more permanent, he had the bookshop, Crowley had nothing. Aziraphale wondered whether he had been called away on business, but they had the Arrangement and he hadn’t said anything. No, something was up.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time old boy?” It took Aziraphale six months to find him, in Norway no less, not exactly the best environment for the old snake, he didn’t seem to mind though as he was drunk off his arse. He looked a wreck, rumpled clothes, hair a mess and he stank like an old cellar.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley grinned, he tried to stand but stumbled back once more, the chair almost toppling beneath him.

“Please sit-down Crowley before you make a fool of yourself.” Aziraphale supported the Demon and eased him back into the chair. “What have you done?”

“Want a drink?”

“No, no thank you, I doubt there is any left.”

“Har-de-har-har.”

“How much have you drunk?”

“I don’t know. How much can I drink in six months?”

“Probably enough to put this poor man out of business and drink the town dry.” Aziraphale rose, throwing Crowley’s gangly arm over his shoulder and half lifting, half dragging him to his feet. “Let’s go home my dear.”

“I fucked up.”

“Did you?” Aziraphale paid for the Demon’s bill and dragged him out onto the street, the bar owner seemed grateful enough. He had to get him out of town. “What was it this time? Another Spanish Inquisition?”

“No… worse.”

“Worse?”

“Well, maybe. I actually helped with this one, a little Demon on his shoulder.”

“Who’s?”

“Some Russian guy… I think I made a huge mistake.”

“No time to dwell on it I’m afraid.” Aziraphale was struggling with Crowley’s lanky frame, he had yet to take a step of his own, so the Angel had been dragging him through the streets. “Can you transform Crowley? This would be easier in you true form if you aren’t going to sober up.”

“I’m not that heavy.” Crowley whined but obeyed anyway his form transmuting and crumpling to the ground in a heap of coiled scales and flickering tongue.

“A little warning next time.” Aziraphale hissed scooping up the bundle of red and black cradling him to his chest. The serpent’s cool body immediately sought out the opening between the buttons in the Angel’s shirt and shimmied his way into the body warmth.

“Crowley, you’re cold!”

_‘Sssorry.’_

“It’s alright, just hold on tight, long flight back to London. Maybe you’ll sober up along the way.”

_‘Don’t drop me.’_

“Wouldn’t dream of it my dear, just sleep it off.” Aziraphale checked around him, his wings flexed into existence stretching and working hard to get him off the ground. The chill of the air in his feathers was welcoming, he was always fond of soaring, the lift offs and landings not so much.

In retrospect Norway wasn’t that far from London and the flight was oddly calming if a little cold. Crowley was curled tightly around him leaching warmth and his body rising and falling softly. It may not be a long flight, but it was going to be a silent one. Aziraphale was positively certain that Crowley at this moment wrapped around him was snoring softly. Could snakes snore? It gave him something to think about. The thermals in the air warmed slightly as he headed south, England’s twinkling lights illuminating the horizon, it reminded him a little of the great Heavenly city he missed so much.

Aziraphale should take Crowley back to his flat, let him sleep off his guilt and hangover in peace, instead he headed towards Soho, towards his bookstore. It was a welcoming sight after six months abroad, it smelled of stale paper and the faint scent of leather. The doors creaked closed behind him, the little bell jingled but he silenced it with a wave of his hand, lights flickered with a warm glow casting shadows around the room. Extracting the sleeping Demon from him was a little tougher than he originally thought and after five minutes of struggling he managed to pry Crowley loose and let him curl up in the lumpy couch cushions.

_‘You were warm.’_

“Yes, comes with being an Angel I presume. Sleep my dear, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Crowley did sleep, a week straight, six months of continuous drinking had given him a Hell of a hangover. He hadn’t stirred for anything, no prying from the Angel and even no arguments from nosy customers. When he had awoken, he looked like Hell had frozen over, a little Demonic intervention later and was back to normal, well as normal he could be, his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

“Good morning Crowley.”

“How long was I out?”

“About one week, you’ve slept longer. Do you feel better?”

“Not really.” Crowley sat opposite the Angel cradling his head and gratefully taking the tea offered to him. Aziraphale had a few books open in front of him, his glasses askew on his face.

“My dear, it’s your job to tempt people. Every now and then someone terrible will emerge from it. You can’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Who said I was?”

“Six months of drinking might have tipped me off.”

“I just liked the wine.”

“That wine was terrible, and you know it.” Aziraphale closed the books and set them aside, his glasses placed on top. “You’re a Demon Crowley, you’re supposed to do evil. Remember Caligula?”

“Oh, he was an arse.” He muttered into his teacup.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing.” Crowley drained the tea, earl grey one sugar, Aziraphale knew. It burnt on the way down.

“It’s not nothing. Talk to me, please?”

“What do you want me to say Angel? That I have regrets?”

“Is that really such a bad thing?”

“Are you serious?” Crowley practically hissed at him, the chair scraping across the floor. “We are not having this conversation.”

“Please, come sit down.”

“No!”

“You’re acting like a child!”

“I’m going home Angel.”

“Please Crowley.” Aziraphale stood slowly but the Demon was gone with a flash of coattails and a click of his fingers, the doors slammed behind him. “This is going to be a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter today. Thank you all for the lovely kudos. I'm glad you're enjoying the chapters so far.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “People couldn’t become truly holy, he said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitively wicked. Crowley had thought about this for some time and, around about 1023, had said, Hang on, that only works, right, if you start everyone off equal, okay? You can’t start someone off in a muddy shack in the middle of a war zone and expect them to do as well as someone born in a castle. Ah, Aziraphale had said, that’s the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, That’s lunatic. No, said Aziraphale, it’s ineffable.”
> 
> A long chapter to make up for my smaller chapters recently. A little thought I had with Angels and Demons having specialties in their powers that they excel in. Crowley's was easy, but Aziraphale I haven't decided in yet. A little bit of a more serious chapter as well. Enjoy.

Aziraphale landed, it was not a graceful landing, since being on Earth he wasn’t one to zip around everywhere he needed to be, he preferred to walk and take in the sights that humanity had to offer than to simply miss it all within the blink of an eye. His wings were probably looking quite dishevelled since their last use, he hadn’t been able to keep up with grooming them and he doubted Crowley had either. Stumbling he lowered his hand to the ground, watching as the Great Serpent slithered from his grasp a few feet away, reforming at first naked before clothes miracle onto his lithe body.

“I’m not a baby, next time don’t cradle me. Can we not tell anyone about this?” Crowley dusted off his clothes glaring daggers at the Angel behind him.

“What were you trying to do?”

“Die, but then you had to come and ruin everything, like always.”

“My dear boy, I don’t know what you’re thinking but I couldn’t let you die.” Aziraphale stretched his wings one last time before they disappeared into the void of reality.

“You’re such an arse." Crowley spat viciously. "Why not?”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale seemed to ignore him. “Honestly, I’d miss our little chats.”

“Oh, now that’s a lie.”

“Angels can’t lie.”

“I know, makes you terrible at keeping secrets.” Crowley clicked his fingers producing a pair of sunglasses onto his face. “Why did you stop them Aziraphale?”

“I-I just couldn’t let you go through with it. Your death isn’t going to change what you’ve done in the past.” This was a delicate subject, Crowley had been beating himself up recently, Aziraphale believed it probably had something to do with his progress report from Hell, a few hundred years late but it involved a lot of paperwork.

“Thank you… I guess.”

“What was that?”

“Thank you.” Crowley muttered. “How do you do it Angel? How do you know you’re doing the right thing?”

“You don’t I suppose. The plan is- “

“Don’t say it.” Crowley growled. “So, the flood, tsunamis, volcanoes… all part of the plan?”

“Yes.”

“But They killed them, little kids, animals…”

“Come now Crowley, you’ve killed people too.”

“I’ve never killed anyone.” Crowley hissed sneering at the Angel as he forced open the door to the building’s roof and made his way slowly down the stairs. They weren’t in England, he knew that, the smell was quite different.

“You’re very persuasive. You’ve used that to compel them towards evil and with that they have murdered.”

“To each their own.” Crowley shrugged as he shouldered his way out onto the street, humans passed them, and their accents made him flinch… Americans. Aziraphale was on his heels, his body bumping into him and he rounded on the Angel. “I guess what really matters is that you saved my life. You do care about me.”

“I don’t want a death on my conscience Crowley, even if it’s yours.” Aziraphale pushed the Demon an arm’s length away. “You would understand if you had one.”

“I have one.” He stepped into the Angel’s space again practically nose to nose with him, snake like eyes studied the cherub like features. “I care if you die.”

Aziraphale was looking at him, not just at his flesh body but the Demon underneath, he could feel his eyes on his soul, his twisted dark black hole that thrummed in affection for the Angel standing before him. They had been through too much to not form some kind of attachment, hadn’t they? Whatever Aziraphale saw he didn’t recoil; he took a step back from Crowley and nodded his head. He seemed to be distracted by something and Crowley could see the inner workings of his mind ticking away.

“Prove something to me.”

“What?”

“Come on.” Aziraphale walked in silence, the quiet streets slowly began to fill with the chatter of curious bystanders and police forces who seemed to have no idea how to handle a situation. The noise disgusted Crowley, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and kept about four paces behind the Angel. He knew what was going to happen, the Angel wanted him to be a saviour, to not do a little miracle because it was a part of the Arrangement but to do one for him alone. He had done them before, but was it to impress Aziraphale or did he do them to go against the Almighty’s wishes? He hated the attention that it brought, he hated the compulsion inside him that worked on the weak-minded individuals. He couldn’t make them do whatever he wanted but he could compel them to make choices that maybe they didn’t want to make. A little whisper here of choice words and someone would do something they probably never tried if he hadn’t gotten into their heads. There was subtlety in that, otherwise if Crowley really wanted to, and he rarely did, he could put all his effort, all his entire being into a single command and the humans would mostly obey, the weak-willed ones would.

“Oh, you want me to do the whole saviour thing?” Crowley snarled but startled when he bumped into Aziraphale’s back.

“Yes please.”

“But I don’t care about people, they don’t mean anything to me.”

“Come now my dear, I know that’s not true. It’s not hard… I promise.”

“I don’t want to do this.” Crowley was sulking. “Unlike you Angel, I can actually get exorcised back to Hell.”

“I’m going in.” Aziraphale straightened his lapels and stepped up towards the fire escape.

Crowley growled staying put, and he had every intention to set his foot down and let the Angel galivant around and do something stupid. He noticed two police officers turn their attention onto Aziraphale and started questioning him, grey coloured eyes met his over the alleyway and Crowley sighed rolling his eyes and closing the distance between them. He hated the attention, hated being in public, there was a reason he tried so hard to ignore that around him and compel others to ignore him in turn. He stepped in front of Aziraphale making eye contact with the two police officers and hissing out his words.

“You’re needed out front. Go.” Both men stared blankly for a moment before stepping away from them and heading around to the front of the warehouse.

“See that wasn’t so hard was it?”

“Shut up Angel.”

From what he had gathered a disgruntled employee had taken to the roof, depression probably. The officers were out the front trying to reason with him, but humans were incredibly stupid sometimes. They didn’t know what they were doing or how to handle the situation, in some respects they were brilliant, in others there was a lot of work to do to move forward. Crowley didn’t know why the human had snapped and honestly, he didn’t care. These were things he normally didn’t involve himself in, day to day life was something he couldn’t really care about, the Angel did though, and Crowley cared for Aziraphale. Their footsteps echoed on the metal fire escape as the two slowly made their way upwards. Crowley could see the man now, teetering on the edge of the building bathed in the spotlights of the police below.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale whispered, hand on the Demon’s shoulder before pushing him forward. “Do something.”

Crowley stumbled, shocked that he was quite literally thrown into the fray, he stood to his full height eyes wide and meeting the man’s eyes. He seemed afraid, sad; Crowley could sense every negative emotion running through him at that very moment. The man didn’t want to jump, but he seemed so lost, so confused on where his life was right at this moment. Crowley raised his hands slowly, peacefully, looking at the man over the rim of his sunglasses, he spoke, and his words held every bit of darkened compulsion in them that he could muster.

“For Satan’s sake, don’t jump!” The man seemed frozen as Crowley let out a sigh of relief. “Come down from there.”

“Why?” The man’s voice was hoarse, as if he had been crying. He was a little stronger than the rest, his mind a turmoil of depression and self hate.

“Is it really that bad? You humans have so much to live for and you don’t even know it. What’s your name?”

“Arthur.”

“I’m Crowley. What’s been happening Arthur?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t really.” Crowley shrugged, moving closer to Arthur to sit himself against the small retaining wall of the rooftop. “It’s not my job really to care, but you do, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Surprising. Tell me Arthur, won’t anyone miss you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure about that?” Crowley’s tongue flicked out.

“I don’t have anyone but a shitty house with a shitty job.”

“You have a dog.”

“How did you know?”

“So, I suppose your dog is going to starve if you jump. Silly creatures’ dogs. So loyal and slobbery and stupid. Yet they seem to love unconditionally.”

“What’s your point?”

“Well, if you jump. Your dog is going to always wonder why you never came home.” Crowley looked up at the man, watching as he turned to face him and slowly stepped down. Arthur’s face was filled with confusion, the sadness was still there but worry was beginning to bubble forward.

Aziraphale had rushed towards the man, he whispered words soothing and gentle, filling the man with happy memories, peaceful times. It wouldn’t be enough to bury out the depression and the anxiety, but it would help him to take every day as it came and try to see the happiness the world offered. The Angel was always quite good at diffusing situations, well except for that one time with Cain but they had both promised to never talk about it again. He supported Arthur as he escorted him to the stairwell into the building. Not even a thank you, well that was humanity for you.

“You did well Crowley.”

“So what? I haven’t gained anything.”

“You gained my respect, isn’t that enough?”

“Honestly, no. If this got back to downstairs, I’d be boiled alive in sulphur.” Crowley turned to leave the way they had come down the fire escape. “What a waste of my time Angel.”

“Not a waste! You just saved his life, Crowley.”

“Not so loud!”

Crowley stalked towards the fire escape, the sway in his hips was gone and his eyes were focused on the uneven metal beneath his feet. He could hear Aziraphale walking behind him like a faithful Hellhound. What he had just done could get him into serious trouble downstairs, but he had in a way, found it exhilarating. He wasn’t a fool, he knew why he did it, the answer was simple. Because the Angel asked him too. He was a Demon; he wasn’t supposed to do good deeds but Aziraphale had looked at him with those God forsaken puppy eyes and he couldn’t say no. He cared for him, that much was certain, how much he would do for him though had yet to be seen, he hadn’t been big on using his persuasion, not since the Garden, not since Eve had succumbed so easily. She had been so entertaining, so full of love for all creatures and with a few words from him he had cursed humanity out of paradise and into the unknown world. 

Crowley in the beginning had chosen his words very carefully around early humanity, they hadn’t been very bright and any of them had been at risk of his compulsion. Over time though humanity got smarter, they made their own horrible decisions and he had learnt to bury that darkness within him and focus more on what life had to offer besides the little temptations here and there. Crowley hadn’t done a proper tempting in a long time, he simply let the horrible stain that was humanity think up their own things and he took credit for them. When his assessment came back from Hell, a few hundred years late, he had felt a pit open in his stomach. So many lives had been tipped because of him, and not just the fake things he took credit for, but real temptations. It had been the reason he had tried to seek out his own discorporation or even death if someone could promise it would be quick and painless. Years and years later Crowley would discover that death by Holy Water is not painless or quick.

“I won’t lie Aziraphale, you and me make one Hell of a team!” Crowley hopped down from the fire escape and held his hand out for the Angel to take, helping him down, their palms clutched a second too long. He sauntered his way into the street, a dingy bar catching his eyes as he ducked inside.

“You and I.”

“What?” They both sat in the back at a quiet booth.

“Never mind.” Aziraphale procured them drinks and offered one across the table. “Good deeds sow their own victories Crowley.”

“Well I won’t be doing it again any time soon, so don’t get your hopes up.” Crowley clapped a hand on his shoulder with a small chuckle and a wicked grin.

“We have the Arrangement.” Aziraphale raised his glass as they both took solemn sips.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Of course. It’s for convenience.” Crowley frowned slightly. “This American booze tastes like shit.”

“It’s not the best.” Aziraphale agreed. “Crowley, can you promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid again?”

“Like glue coins to the sidewalk stupid or try to get myself killed stupid?”

“The second one, definitely.”

“Promise, but not for you, for my own selfish reasons of course.”

“Right, well I’d stay for this lovely chat but..."

"You find me irritating?"

"In a way." Aziraphale stood, leaving his glass still half full on the table. "I look forward to seeing you soon, Crowley.” 

“I don't.” The Demon smirked behind his pint.

“I’m glad you’re not dead.” Aziraphale waved over his shoulder. The Angel could really be a little bit of a bastard, but that was why Crowley liked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely kudos.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, Hell was worse, of course, by definition. But Crowley remembered what Heaven was like, and it had quite a few things in common with Hell. You couldn’t get a decent drink in either of them, for a start. And the boredom you got in Heaven was almost as bad as the excitement you got in Hell.” 
> 
> So you've had sex right?

It was the early thirteen hundred when Crowley started to get bored, the world was slowly expanding, slowly evolving over time and with that came wars. The French were awfully good at them, they’d had their fair share and tensions always seemed to be running high between them and the English, Hell even between France and the peasants. They had been ransacking the English Channel last he heard, sinking ships left and right. Aziraphale didn’t seem concerned, he loved the French cuisine and was always willing to pop over when he could. Crowley had been watching him as he sipped languidly on his wine, he had offered the Angel not only lunch but anything he hadn’t picked at he had slid over the table for him. Aziraphale was quite interesting when he enjoyed something and wasn’t being a pompous arse because he was quoting some schtick that had been in the Bible. Crowley wouldn’t admit it, but he did enjoy their time together even if they were normally on opposite sides.

“Crowley?”

“Yes Angel?”

“Have you ever… had sex before?” He sounded so innocent. Crowley had inhaled his wine up into his nose causing his eyes to water. A little divine miracle caused the burning sensation to recede and the horrible taste in the back of this throat to lessen. Aziraphale seemed concerned but the Demon waved him off.

“No, I have not… why, have you?”

“No, I suppose I was just curious.”

“Whether I have or whether you want to?”

“Have you thought about it?”

“Not really.” Angels and Demons were sexless beings, nothing but radiating energy and void like holes in the universe. Crowley wondered what had brought this on. “Don’t see the appeal if I’m honest.”

“Thought that would be something your lot would enjoy. Lust is a sin after all.”

“That’s not me though.” Crowley massaged his temples in irritation. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

“What makes you so different?”

“Nothing makes me different! It’s just disgusting. All that skin touching, sounds revolting.” Aziraphale had managed to turn him off his wine, that was something you didn’t see every day.

“There’s love.”

“I’m a Demon.” Crowley hissed across the table. “I don’t do love.”

“You love food.”

“Not really, that’s you.”

“You love mischief.”

“No, that’s my job.”

“Alcohol?”

“I’ll give you that.”

“So, you do love something.”

“Well,” Crowley’s tongue darted out to taste the wine that still stained his lips. “I wouldn’t say love, more like greatly appreciate.”

“So, when in Rome?” Aziraphale sat back with a little smirk.

“What?” Crowley snorted his wine again, a small demonic intervention stopped him from making a complete fool of himself. “I’m not interested Angel, not now, not ever!”

“Surprising.”

“No, what’s surprising is you hounding me about it.” Crowley threw the wine back. He didn’t refill the glass. “If you really want to try it Angel, I’m sure there are plenty of willing participants, this is France after all. Personally I wouldn't touch any of them with a ten foot pole”

“I’m not curious.” Aziraphale’s smirk was gone and with a little wiggle of his fingers both glasses refilled. He was looking at Crowley the same way he looked at his books of prophecy, with that sick fascination that just wanted to dissect him open and study his entrails.

Crowley could have whatever he wanted, his persuasion saw to that in several situations, but he had never taken more than what he had needed. He wanted alcohol, people were willing to serve him, shelter from some mob, why don’t you come in. Places opened for him with just a few words and those that were smarter than the others and a bit more stubborn usually crumbled under a little occult intervention. He wasn’t selfish with it, usually his acts benefitted them, and he didn’t think the Angel knew exactly what he had sacrificed over the years. Aziraphale was looking at him with those grey blue eyes, staring into the void that was his soul and seemingly a little distant and just a tad intense with his stare.

“Can you please stop looking at me like that Angel?” Crowley was sure he had been bending reality to investigate his very essence of existence. “It’s kind of creepy.”

“Oh, I thought you liked creepy?”

“I like my kind of creepy, this-” Crowley gestured, “this is weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yes… weird. You’re acting weird. You need to go back and take _‘how to act human’_ again.”

“Oh, that kind of weird.”

“You haven’t blinked in seven minutes!” Crowley leant back in his seat, his eyes studying Aziraphale under his glasses. He wasn’t the only one that could bend reality. “You’re practically radiating angelic light, surprised you haven’t foretold some miracle. Burning bush maybe? More commandments? Oh, I know how about another miracle baby because that worked so well last time!”

“I’m radiating?”

“That’s what you took from that?” Crowley snorted, he could see the Angel now, light and wings and swirling angelic essence all struggling in a flesh they didn’t belong in. “Reel it in Angel before you burn some poor sods brains out.”

“You’re a black hole you know.”

“I’m aware Aziraphale, Demon remember?” Crowley stood, standing slowly on his feet, he wasn’t drunk, just Crowley with his small hypnotic movements.

“Please my dear boy, sit and drink with me.”

“I’m done drinking tonight. Go home Angel!”

“Will you at least think about our earlier conversation?”

“In your dreams!” Crowley hissed as he sauntered out of the bar dismissing Aziraphale with a little nonchalant wave. Which conversation? The one about sex or the one about love? Both didn’t seem to be appealing to him. They were things he didn’t understand, took no delight in and didn’t want to ever participate. He would let the Angel figure it out on his own. Which Aziraphale had quite a few decades to figure it out because in 1347 the Black Death swept through Europe. Crowley had spent one week in the despair that was the plague and decided sleeping was a much better consumer of his time. He had become the serpent, buried himself into the earth and snored his way through the entire thing. The next time he had bumped into Aziraphale the Angel had completely forgotten about their last conversation and he couldn’t have been happier for the distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely kudos and comments my beautiful readers. Just a short chapter today. Crowley's reaction to sex is something that is very similar to my own, if I was a sexless being who didn't understand it at all. <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Odd," muttered the angel, "I keep getting flashes of..." He raised his hands to his temples.  
> "What? What?" said Crowley. Aziraphale stared at him.  
> "Love," he said. "Someone really loves this place."  
> "Pardon?"  
> "There seems to be this great sense of love. I can't put it any better than that. Especially not to you."  
> "Do you mean like-" Crowley began.
> 
> Crowley doesn't understand love and it leaves him frustrated and confused.

“Oh no, don’t do that, don't cry, you’ll smear your mascara, that's such a faux pas for such a pretty face.” Crowley grinned at the woman before him. A little bit of tempting before meeting up with Aziraphale never hurt anyone.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Honestly no, Crowley didn’t think any of the humans were physically beautiful. Their inventions, their ingenious, their souls and their decisions; that was beautiful. Them as a whole? Not so much. How could one say they were beautiful when he had seen what he had? Eden, Heaven, an Angel’s grace, there were much more beautiful things in life. The woman lunged at him, Crowley freezing in his tracks as she latched onto his lips. He muffled a surprised gasp; her lips were incredibly soft, but he couldn’t see the fuss behind it. He could sense the lust bubbling within her, he didn’t feel anything though, he felt nothing, and he did nothing.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale had been running late, he darted over to his counterpart prying him away from the woman. “Move along young lady… Crowley, what are you doing?”

“Aziraphale!” He gratefully exhaled as he let the Angel lead him away from the young woman he had been trying to tempt, but not in that way.

“You’re being entirely inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate is what I do.” Crowley followed into step beside Aziraphale as they walked along St. James’ Park, the ducks seemed disappointed that they weren’t going to be fed that day.

“No something is different. You’re missing your…” Aziraphale flailed his arms towards the Demon, “your usual saunter. You’ve never kissed a human before.”

“And how would you know?”

“I’m aware of what you do.”

“Have you been keeping tabs on me Angel?” Crowley shifted to run a hand through his hair to fix it. Aziraphale’s glare could have killed him, if he wasn’t an immortal being and he was only at risk of being discoporated. He did like this body after all, he had taken a lot of time to sculpt the cheek bones himself.

“I might be. It is in the job description my dear, I see a wile, I thwart.”

“But we have the Arrangement, why is Heaven still keeping tabs?”

“Not so loud Crowley!”

“Everyone look! He’s an angel!” Crowley watched a few humans regard them for a moment before they moved on. “See nobody cares.”

“You are incorrigible. What is with you today?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yes...?”

“Crowley.”

“Honestly it’s nothing!”

“Crowley, we’re partners, you can talk to me.”

“Partners?”

“Not in that way and you know it!” Aziraphale looked flustered and that helped perk the Demon’s mood slightly.

“Pass.”

“Maybe I can help?”

“How, by giving me a warm cuddly hug?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Don’t touch me Angel.” Crowley pushed his hands onto Aziraphale’s chest to hold him at a distance. What he was going through was none of the Angel’s business, he wouldn’t understand anyway, no one he could talk to would understand.

“What in the world is the matter with you?” Aziraphale pulled away, straightening his waist coat. Crowley looked like absolute shit.

“I said it’s nothing.”

“Oh please, don’t give me that! I know when you’re lying.”

“That iss not true! I’m a fantastic liar.” Crowley was getting angry, his hiss escaping.

“Oh really?”

“Better than you are.”

“Why are you acting like this Crowley?”

“I said it was nothing. Ssstop pushing me.”

“My dear, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to be calm.”

“Crowley, come on.”

“I sssaid ssstop!” Crowley punched him in the face, the Angel fell back stunned, his fist hurt. What was he built from, bricks? He felt bad the moment he had done it, when he had seen Aziraphale’s face with a solemn look of hurt.

“Crowley!” The Angel looked up from the ground touching his face, blood on his fingertips.

“What did you expect Angel? You’ve been on my case all day!”

“You’ve never punched me.”

“I have so.” He hadn’t.

“Not that I recall.” Aziraphale reluctantly took the hand offered to him and slowly got back to his feet. “That hurt.”

“Not a scratch.” Crowley waved his hand, the blood and bruise disappearing from the Angel’s nose with a little Demonic intervention. He knew the Angel didn’t really like it when he did them, but he did feel a little guilty about it.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t do that, don’t thank me.”

“You’re not evil Crowley.”

“You don’t know a thing about me or what I’ve done. I just punched you in the face Aziraphale!” He practically growled.

“You didn’t mean it. Why have you been acting out recently? Just talk to me Crowley, please just tell me what’s going on. I’m here for you alright? I’d like to think that six thousand years of knowing you I might have learnt a thing or two.”

“You can’t understand Aziraphale, and you never will.” He hissed, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose and stalking away.

“My dear!” He leapt after him, hands clutching onto Crowley’s sleeve and stilling him instantly. “Please. You can trust me.”

“I don’t doubt that. You just wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” It was a challenge and Crowley was always up for a challenge. Maybe the Angel knew something about him after all.

Aziraphale led the way, the Demon a few steps behind him along the busy London streets in silence, it wasn’t companionable, more like he was a lamb being led to the slaughter. Or was that goats? Satan had a thing for goats, right? People had parted around them, giving them a wide berth and not even sparing a glance. It might have had something to do with the demonic energy pulsing in the air telling them to look away, that there was no one there. It might have had something to do with the angelic influence telling them to go about their lives, it was a great day and the two figures didn’t spare a glance.

The bookshop loomed above them, the Demon stepping inside obediently once the doors were open, he made his way to the back room and slumped onto Aziraphale’s couch. The old dusty material smelt like the Angel, cinnamon and musk, love and grace along with a little bit of wine had sunken into the material. He hated this place, well he didn’t really but this conversation was something he really didn’t want to have.

“Wine?”

“Thanks.” Crowley sat up slightly and drained the entire glass.

“That’s a good drop my dear, please try to savour it.” Aziraphale grimaced when the Demon shot back the second glass, his third was dealt with a little more sophistication. “Want to talk now?”

“No.”

“Take your time.”

“That’s all we’ve got right? Time.”

“Don’t get physiological on me. Right now, why are you upset Crowley?”

“I don’t get upset.”

“If you’re going to lie to me, at least try.” The Demon hissed at him affectionately. They both sat in silence for a moment, Crowley quietly sipping his wine and Aziraphale simply waited for him. He was six glasses in before his lips were moist enough and his mind foggy enough to talk.

“What do you know about love Angel?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Love, that’s you lot, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“So, what do you know about it?”

“Not the conversation I thought I would be having today.”

“You asked what was on my mind.”

“I guess I did.” Aziraphale took a deep drink from his wine. “I can sense love. I love Her creations, all of them. Their ideas, their desires, they make mistakes but that’s all right. The love they feel is strong, it’s binding, so many different kinds. Love for their family, their friends, their sexual partners, even their pets! It’s quite fascinating.”

“Do you love those things?”

“I suppose in a way. I love fine wine, great food, good company…”

“Can a Demon love?”

“Honestly my dear boy, I don’t know.” Aziraphale’s hand rested gently on his arm, stilling Crowley from taking another sip. “You’re not like other Demons.”

“Don’t say such things. You’ll get me into trouble.” Crowley didn’t pull away.

“You could love, I assume. It’s not spooky.”

“I like spooky.”

“I know you do.” Aziraphale’s smile was fond, a small miracle had Crowley’s glass full once more. “This is what’s been on your mind?”

“It’s foreign to me.”

“I know, but we’ll work through this. How about you stay the night Crowley? I wouldn’t mind.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“I’m aware.” The Angel stood, he grasped the glass from his hand, pulling Crowley’s glasses off slowly and placing them aside on the coffee table. He never understood the Demon’s need for sleep, but it was endearing to say the least. Tossing a blanket over the old serpent who snuggled into the warmth.

“Good night old boy.”

“Nng.”

“Love you.”

“Nng!” Crowley disappeared under the blanket completely as Aziraphale chuckled his way into the kitchen. He knows. The God damn Angel knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again all for the lovely kudos.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “G-d does not play games with His loyal servants," said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice.   
> "Whooo-eee," said Crowley. "Where have you been?” 
> 
> In the begining they weren't friends, but when you were immortal it was silly to form bonds with humanity, so who else to talk to but your greatest enemy?
> 
> A short chapter.

The third time Crowley had bumped into Aziraphale he had watched Noah’s family load up an arc with local animals. It was a shame the unicorns had never made it; they had been majestic creatures. The Angel had seemed horribly upset about the entire ordeal; he had been following plans, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t regret them. Crowley liked to keep their meetings brief, he was still under the assumption that the Angel would turn around and kill him and that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. Aziraphale had never acted hostile, but then again it didn't take much for an Angel to turn into the warriors they were actually created to be.

The fourth time the Crowley had bumped into the Angel, he had simply walked past him at first. Talking to a human as if he was warning them. Crowley watched the entire thing from where he was sitting with his back against a stone wall, basking in the sun whilst eating an apple, no less. He heard a few choice words but none of them seemed to really be sinking in, Sodom was in danger and those with virtuous souls should escape. The whole thing seemed rather trivial to the Demon. The Angel from the garden had simply huffed turning on his heels and stopping abruptly.

“Crawly?”

“Crowley.” He hissed back agitated. 

“Yes sorry.”

“Hello Angel.”

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale approached him, leaning against the wall beside him and looking down.

“Heard there was going to be a light show. Apple?”

“Oh no, I mustn’t.”

“Suit yourself.” Crowley shrugged his serpentine eyes looking out past the road to a field, a small flock of sheep darted away, frightened by children who were running and chasing each other. “Surely the Almighty can’t be too happy with you foiling plans?”

“I’m not foiling.”

“Seems like it to me. Honestly though, offering up his daughters. Humans are so disgusting.” Crowley muttered, the solem face on the Angel seemed like he agreed with him.

“It’s going to burn, all of it.”

“What because there aren’t enough righteous men? What’s the point of letting them choose if they’re just going to be punished for it?”

“They can’t choose to be evil, Crawly.”

“Crowley." He huffed savouring the bite of an apple for a few moments before spitting it out. Bitter. "Then why give them free will at all?”

“From my understanding, you did that.”

“I’m quite proud of it too.” Crowley raised a new apple, stretching his hand up so it was in Aziraphale's peripheral. “Have an apple. Come on, they’re delicious.”

“No, thank you.” Crowley frowned, that was weird, maybe it didn’t work on Angels. The children screamed with delight causing him to flinch. They would burn with the rest.

“Uh… children, I’ll never understand human needs to procreate.”

“I thought you liked children?”

“Not at all! Filthy little creatures.”

“Are you at all aware at how dickish you sound?” The Angel was looking down at him, a brow raised and all righteous, pompous energy radiating from his very essence. 

“No, but, thank you.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“It’s weird. I appeal to the dark and mischievous parts of people, except you Angel. You seem oddly immune to my charms.”

“Referring to them as charms is a bit of a stretch. Truth be told, I find you repulsive.”

“That hurt.” Crowley deadpanned, shifting slightly as Aziraphale slid down the wall to sit beside him. His golden eyes studied the being he had met briefly in the Garden. When he had first laid eyes on him, he thought they were going to fight, instead the Angel had just seemed nervous. He had been more interested in the new creations in the Garden and the curiosity that humanity offered that he hadn't been very good at his job. Nothing had changed. “Who’s doing the smiting?”

“Sandalphon, I believe.”

“Oh, tough break… there’ll be nothing left.”

“No, I presume there won’t be.” The Angel was absently picking at the grass at his side, letting the wind carry it away. He didn’t seem too upset to be sitting beside a Demon and talking about plans neither of them should be involved in. “It’s supposed to burn in fire and brimstone. That’s your lot, right?”

“Probably, I haven’t heard anything about it myself. Doubt our sides would work together.”

“You’re probably right.” Aziraphale had picked up an apple and was idly playing with the stem in his hands. “What am I doing here?”

“That’s the big question isn’t it?”

“No, I mean what am I doing here, with you?”

“Well I don’t know, you tell me, Angel. I mean, despite your revulsion towards me you can’t deny that there is a connection between us. Tell me, what do you want?” Crowley’s voice was laced with every bit of persuasion he had been able to muster, and the Angel simply sat beside from him with a curious brow raised.

“Are you trying to tempt me?”

“I was." So that was good, it didn't work on Aziraphale at all. "In all seriousness though, tell me?”

“Thwart you, I guess? Carry out Her plan, spread love and good tidings.”

“Boring.”

“Why are you hanging around Crawl-Crowley?”

“I told you, I wanted to see the show.” The Demon stood, stretching slowly his eyes cast upwards. The sun was fading, and it would be starting soon. He headed out onto the road, waiting patiently for the Angel to join him before he began to walk away from the small doomed town. The children in the field giggled and ran, their mothers chasing them, if they happened to coincidently be heading towards safety that had nothing to do with Crowley.

“You don’t strike me as the gloating type.”

“That’s not true, there’s just nothing here to gloat over.”

“I see. Very prideful creature, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I guess I am.” Crowley strayed off the path, stepping up into the hills and dodging a little child as they ran past him giggling, the mother apologising as she too tore past.

“Did you…”

“No, don’t think such ridiculous things.” They both stopped and turned to face the town, a bright light expanding from the sky filled with burning rage. Flames licked at the buildings, heat rising from the streets. Children and mothers beside them cried out and sobbed into their robes. A Demon and Angel atop a hill simply watched. “Such a waste.”

“I assume it is rather…” Angelic energy pulsed over the survivors around them calming their cries to sniffling sobs.

“They are but a loving God.” Crowley looked over to the burning city, if he listened carefully enough, he could hear the agonising screams.

“You don’t get to speak about Her like that.” Aziraphale snapped.

“I guess I don’t.” Crowley nodded his head, his black wings appearing with a slight pop. “I’ll see you around Angel.”

“Goodbye Crawly.”

“Crowley!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You see, evil always contains the seeds of its own destruction' said the angel said, 'It is ultimately negative, and therefore encompasses its downfall even at its moment of apparent triumph. No matter how grandiose, how well-planned, how apparently foolproof an evil plan, the inherent sinfulness will by definition rebound upon its instigators. No matter how apparently successful it may seem upon the way, at the end it will wreck itself. It will founder upon the rocks of inquity and sink head first to vanish without trace into the seas of oblivion.” 
> 
> "For my money it was just an ordinary cock up. "

“Crowley! We have a problem!” Aziraphale had burst into the Demon’s flat, Crowley was sure that he would regret giving him a key. He was in the kitchen; his hair was a mess his clothes rumpled as he sat up on the countertop enjoying the sun that basked through the window.

“What is your problem Angel? I haven’t had my morning cuppa yet.”

“There’s a Demon.”

“Present and accounted for.” Crowley waved his fingers to grasp Aziraphale’s attention.

“No, not you. I know what mischief you get up too!”

“Then who? Not many Demons are stupid enough to come up top anymore. Not since you scared off the last lot.” Crowley had lent his head back against the windowpane, his hair looked like fire as he enjoyed the warmth.

“I think it may be Valefar… Valefor… Valafar… however it’s said.” Aziraphale was flusttered.

“Nice to know Crawly was easy enough to pronounce.” A little occult intervention and he clasped a warm mug in his hands, the aroma of coffee filling the small modern kitchen. “Are you sure Angel? It could just be humans, ya know, being human.”

“No, I’m quite positive. There’s been an increase in robberies and well, they were always good at tempting people to steal.”

“What did they take?”

“What makes you think they took something?”

“Petty thievery isn’t really something that concerns you Angel, so if you think its Valefar than they’ve taken something of yours. What book was it?”

“The _misprinted_ bible where it names you as the Serpent and not Lucifer.”

“So, the only one with truth then?”

“Yes. Please Crowley it’s very valuable.” Aziraphale waved his hand and the coffee mug disappeared, Crowley was dressed, a sneer on his face.

“I don’t do tartan.” Demonic intervention fixed his wardrobe problem as he hopped off the counter and bowed. “Whatever you need of me, I’m yours.”

“Excellent! I was hoping you could come to the bookshop and confirm my theories?”

“Angel, it’s eight in the morning. I would have been around in two hours if you had simply waited.”

“There’s no time for that! Come along Crowley!”

They took the Bentley much to Aziraphale’s chagrin. Crowley had argued if he was forced to be up and about before his body had even warmed up than the Angel could suffer the ten-minute drive from the flat to Soho. To be fair Crowley had completed the trip in six. The Bentley grumbled to a stop in the cold morning and sat as a hazard on the curb, early pedestrians moved around it, not even seeming to notice the cars existence. The bookshop’s bell jingled, and Crowley stopped in the doorway, his nose twitched, his tongue flicked out.

“What is that awful smell? Candles? Oh, don’t tell me you actually like this?”

“I happen to enjoy the smell.”

“Of course, you do.” Crowley snarled as he placed the burner back where he found it. “Did you light this?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“So definitely trying to cover the smell. Valefar probably burnt it to cover up their tracks. Honestly the two scents together are just ghastly! Smells a little like cat’s piss.”

“Can we please focus! How are we going to get the Demon back to Hell?”

“I thought you had a plan. Your side seems to be awfully good at the smiting.” Crowley flopped down onto the couch and looked up at the Angel with a smarmy grin.

“I brought you here so _we_ could come up with a plan.”

“Sounds like you want me to do all the heavy lifting.” Crowley stretched out laying his head back on the couch and closing his eyes.

“Now I remember why I wanted to thwart you in the first place. You’re awfully cranky in the morning. What is your problem Crowley?”

“Let’s see… I didn’t get to warm up or even have my morning coffee. Oh, and my friend is trying to use me.”

“We’re not friends.”

“But now he wants to work with me to thwart a Demon, which ya know are my side, but I have trouble accepting that because he’s a twat!”

“I’m not a twat.”

“Sometimes you are.”

“Are you going to help me or not? I can perform an exorcism by myself if it comes to it.”

“That’s disconcerting.” Crowley swung his long legs from the couch and stood in a single fluid motion. “Alright fine, there was a Demon here, not sure if it’s the one you think, but I can smell something. They weren’t here long and stumbled out the back way.”

“What are you, like some sort of bloodhound?”

“Without the drool.”

“So, can you track them?”

“No. In that aspect I’m not a dog. I can sense the occult so they shouldn’t be too hard to find.” Crowley sauntered toward the backdoor, almost kicked the poor thing off its hinges and jumped out into the alleyway, where there was nothing of course but it was overly dramatic. “You know I can’t be seen helping you right?”

“I understand, keeping up appearances and what not. Why don’t you just point me in the right direction Crowley, and I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

“Sounds ominous but alright.” He followed the Angel out onto the street. “They went that way, probably about six blocks down. I can still sense them easily so they couldn’t have gone far.”

“Thank you, Crowley.” Aziraphale gently squeezed the Demon’s wrist causing him to pull away slightly.

“Yeah sure… just don’t kill them. Duke of Hell and all that, my people are bound to notice them missing. Try to focus on the darkness and despair, you should be able to sense the occult too, if you haven’t gone soft.”

“I’m just a little out of practice. Exorcism only, I get it.” Aziraphale frowned slightly as Crowley just gave him two thumbs up and disappeared back into the bookshop.

He was on his own for this. Not that he had expected Crowley to help him with the smiting of course, that was asking too much. It would be as if he had asked the Demon to help him get rid of Gabriel, the Archangel might have been the biggest prick on the planet, but he was like a brother to Aziraphale. He just didn’t think he would be doing a lot of this by himself, having Crowley saunter beside him would have definitely taken the edge off, he would have made up something about Demons not feeling pain and Aziraphale would have known it was a lie but it might have eased the tension a little. He had never exorcised a Demon before, he had never harmed anyone. Well there was those few years after the Garden that he scrapped with Crowley but that had fizzled out sooner than he thought it would.

Didn’t help things that he didn’t have his flaming sword anymore. It originally had been a gift from the Almighty that he didn’t wish to receive, but after handing it over to the humans he had missed it dreadfully. He wondered what had happened to it after the Cain fiasco? Deep breaths. This wouldn’t be so hard. Aziraphale focused what he could on the Demonic energy within the area. He could feel the dark void that was Crowley, feel that he was lazing on his couch and flicking through some books. The other one, filled with greed and pride, that one was up ahead, in the Mayfair district no less. He guessed all Demons preferred something flashy than what they had spent much of their lives in. Hell, he had heard was one dank and miserable place. No wonder Crowley wanted to be topside.

Where Crowley was a black hole filled with curiosity and affection for the smallest things in humanity; this Demon was a black hole of loathing and despair, hate and malice bubbling inside and threatening to bleed into the environment around them. It would explain all the recent petty thefts, humans exposed to those whispering voices, telling them to do it, no one would notice, they could have it if they wanted. What Aziraphale didn’t understand was why a Demon would want to take one of his books, especially a Bible with a misprint, as truthful as it may be. What was Valefar getting at? Was this a personal attack on him? Aziraphale normally flew under Demons radar, they didn’t attack him, and he never minded them, not that there were many that resided on Earth now days. Up to their neck in paperwork Crowley had told him. So why was this Demon here and why would they steal a book that was practically meaningless to them?

Aziraphale closed his eyes again focusing on the occult just like Crowley had taught him, okay, so it was a two-minute crash course on dark energies, and he wasn’t great at it, but he could sense a little. Crowley was still at the shop, his energy a little nervous. What he thought was Valefar’s energy was a bubbling boiling pot of hate, if he was better at this, he could sense a little more than just basis emotion, he knew Crowley’s inside and out so why was this so hard? Alright, he could do this, what was a little exorcism to an Angel? Sure, he had never performed one before but how hard could it be? Humans had managed to do them over the centuries to varying degrees of success, they had even tried once on Crowley, he had put on a show for them and had turned up a week later with a smile and a saunter in his step, the humans hadn’t been pleased. Aziraphale on the other hand had no idea what he was doing, maybe he should go back for Crowley, he could ask him how the humans did it, but he was almost there.

No, it was time he got this over and done with, he didn’t need Crowley. The Demonic energy felt a little erratic, but he was sure he was in the right area. Just to be safe he took a deep breath and tried again, just how Crowley taught him. Aziraphale reached out for the Demon’s aura, bitter and twisted and not here. Oh no. He reached for Crowley, fear and anxiety circled the Demon like a drain. His bookshop, he had left Crowley alone in his bookshop. The book wasn’t meant to lure him towards the Demon, it was meant to lead him away.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale felt true real terror in that moment. It encompassed everything and he knew he had to get back. London was too busy to fly, he couldn’t risk being seen, things were so much easier before the invention of cameras. No, he couldn’t let something so stupid get in the way of his friend’s safety, a tonne of angelic energy went out urging humans to look away, his wings spread, he didn’t struggle with the take off this time. There was a bonus to London’s weather being subpar most days, the cloud cover and light drizzle helped with obscuring him from view, the thoughts he kept radiating would have to do the rest of the work, enough to pull any curious eyes away. Aziraphale approached the bookshop, he prodded for Crowley again and felt pain, the shock of that was enough to cause him to fall, his wings seized, and he hit the asphalt behind the store with a heavy thud and a loud curse.

“Crowley!” The back door gave under his weight and he pushed his way inside, knocking over a few limited editions and he’d realise later that he hadn’t cared. Crowley was on his couch, a glass of scotch in his shaking hands and a grin on his features that wasn’t overly confident even though he tried to be.

“Hey Aziraphale.”

“Are you alright?”

“I will be.”

“What happened?” Aziraphale rushed over to his friend, his hands fluttering over his body looking for any injuries, Crowley didn’t try to pull away but waved him off after a few seconds, his hands were blistered and red.

“Turns out books make great bait huh?”

“Where’s Valefar?”

“Gone,” Crowley took a large sip and offered the other half to the Angel. “They uh… well, I hope you didn’t like that rug.”

“Oh, oh my.” There was a heap of rumpled clothes on said rug and a steaming stain weaving its way into the fibres. “You’re not hurt though?”

“No, none on me, or you’d have to get your couch dry-cleaned.”

“I’m throwing out the rug.”

“Probably for the best, it was hideous anyway.”

“Crowley, are you sure you’re alright?” Aziraphale sat down next to his friend, his hand gripping lightly at the Demon’s wrist, his thumb idly running over the small red scales there.

“It was them or me. Honestly, I’d pick me every time.”

“So would I.” Aziraphale pulled Crowley towards him, encompassing the lanky Demon into a tight hug with a sigh of relief. He squirmed in his grip for a few moments, uttering choice words that Aziraphale didn’t pay attention to until he eventually settled with a bothersome grumble and leant into his touch. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Why are you wet?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale pulled back with a little laugh. “It’s raining outside.”

“Of course, it is. Fucking London weather.”

“Language!” Aziraphale sternly spoke.

“Language.” Crowley mocked as he pulled away. His smile was a little forced, his hands shaky as he held up the book. "Ta-da!"

"The bible! Crowley you got it back?"

"It's a little stained I'm afraid."

"That doesn't matter!" Aziraphale extracted the bible from Crowley's long fingers, he would never throw it aside but he did carlessly place it onto the table, his grey eyes were still focused on the Demon as he grinned and pulled Crowley in for another hug. "Thank you."

"Knock it off Angel!" Yet Aziraphale didn't pull away and Crowley eventually stopped complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos.
> 
> As some of you have noticed, the story has 17 chapters. This is subject to change when inspiration hits me. I will let you know when it's finished <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.”
> 
> Humans are quite ingenious.

Aziraphale watched the humans cheer as they ignored his presence. He had been told to perform a little miracle, give two brother’s the little push they needed for their breakthrough and it had been quite spectacular even if it was a little short. The contraption which was at a standstill right now was being looked over by the brothers, they were ecstatic even if the _plane_ had only gone a small distance it was something they would improve over time. Humanity was always coming up with little ingenious inventions, some of them were horrible such as the guillotine, others, like this were a marvel to behold.

Further across the field dressed in all black was a figure, leaning against a fence post and trying to ooze confidence and boredom. Crowley. The Demon’s features were hard to read from here and his sunglasses made it particularly difficult but Aziraphale was sure that he didn’t have any work here. They had the Arrangement for such a long time now, that Aziraphale knew Crowley’s movements as he always tried to brush off any miracles or temptations that were in the Americas or Scotland for some reason. Which was fine, he didn’t mind but it made it even more stranger seeing him here.

Aziraphale glanced back at the humans before he crossed the sparse field to stand by the Demon’s side. Crowley had kept up with the fashion as he always did but Aziraphale thought the hat and sideburns did look awfully silly on him even if he wouldn’t say it to his companion. Last time he had told Crowley he had looked silly the Demon hadn’t spoken to him in thirteen years, which to them wasn’t a long time but the Angel had found it to be a very boring affair.

“What are you doing here Crowley? I wasn’t aware you had a temptation in the area, I would have done it, as per our Arrangement.”

“Oh no nothing like that. I was just curious is all.”

“Curious?” Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, the field sparse around him a few humans were cheering and celebrating a few hundred metres away. “Oh, the Wrights, yes quite ingenious, aren’t they?”

“Flight huh? Only took them thousands of years to figure it out.”

“Well they aren’t born with wings Crowley; it doesn’t come naturally to humans as it does to us.”

“To be fair we’re not born, we just kind of popped into existence one day.” The Demon tilted his head studying the flying machine that was stopped further along the grass. There was no way he would ever get into one of those contraptions, for now he’d stick to his own wings.

“That was a very long time ago.”

“Yes, Earth hadn’t been created then.”

“Did you have a hand in it?” Aziraphale asked, curious. He certainly hadn’t had any say in the matter, he had been given a sword and a job and he had failed at that quite miserably.

“No, I had fallen before then.”

“What did you do?”

“To piss Them off. Asked questions. That’s all it took back then.” Crowley ignored his indignant stare and pushed himself off the fence post, bored with the humans now that they weren’t testing anymore. “Ok I have an idea, hear me out.”

“Is it a good idea?”

“Now Angel, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale sighed in frustration his hands massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Listen it’s not that bad.”

“If your idea isn’t us going to get food or head home I’m going to decline.”

“Well what a coincidence!” Crowley grinned.

“You said it was a bad idea.”

“No, you assumed it was. I said no such thing.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale sighed taking a deep breath to calm himself, the Demon’s smile was playful and full of confidence, he wanted to wipe it from his face. “Fine, where did you have in mind?”

“For lunch?”

“Yes, for lunch!”

“Calm down Angel, I’m just messing with you.”

“Fine. I know a lovely place in Italy.” Aziraphale stepped into line behind Crowley. “Care to join me?”

“I suppose I could be tempted into it.” Crowley smirked, his tight features lighting up in the Angel’s presence.

Aziraphale sent out a wave of Divine intervention, he could feel Crowley doing the same, demonically of course, both wanting the same thing. The pulse would urge people to look away, that the Wright brother’s conquest was much more interesting than two figures on the other side of the field. Crowley was the first, his black sleek feathers a dark silhouette against the harsh light, Aziraphale was a little more reserved, his white wings flaring, and a few stray feathers fluttered to the ground.

“Already?” Crowley asked with a cocked brow.

“It would appear so.”

“I’m free next week Angel.” Aziraphale huffed at Crowley’s little laugh.

The dirt kicked up around them as Crowley took to the sky, his wings were much better designed for take off than Aziraphale, the Angel struggling to get lift but succeeding eventually to join the Demon in the sky. Crowley’s laugh echoed in his ears, but he promptly ignored him, Crowley may have the advantage on take-off, but the winds favoured Aziraphale’s soaring and he took a slight lead. He could hear the Demon huff behind him, feel the wind disturbed by his hard wingbeats whilst trying to keep up.

“Crowley. I don’t need your help.”

“With grooming, who cares Angel? We’ve done it a tonne of times. Besides,” Crowley lunged in the air, a white feather between his fingers. “You’re moulting, surely that’s uncomfortable.”

“That is none of your business.”

“When your down keep getting caught in my mouth, I think it’s my problem.” Crowley swatted at his face, his balance going off kilter and he dropped slightly.

“Stop playing around Crowley and concentrate where you’re going.”

“Fine.”

Crowley tried to start the conversation several times but Aziraphale stayed firm and kept the silence, he couldn’t deal with the Demon and his oh-so-smart comments right now, he didn’t need to hear about his wings or his moulting, he was already irritable and having it brought up just made his mood decline. They already had the Arrangement and the Agreement within it, they saw each other for grooming once a year and he understood that wasn’t enough, but he didn’t want to encourage Crowley. They were not friends, as much as the Demon thought they were. They had known one another since the beginning and somehow that had been a green card for Crowley to constantly harass him.

Aziraphale’s wings flared, Italy was a dark blinking blot against the horizon, the night would make landing much easier. They weren’t bound by the natural laws of physics, popping up somewhere was very easy when you were beings of Ethereal and Occult forces. They didn’t teleport, that wasn’t a possibility with them but flying could be awfully fast when they wanted. Aziraphale had Crowley beat for speed but the Demon was graceful with his landings. His boots touched the cold ground and he steadied the Angel’s staggering body before Aziraphale shrugged him off.

“Still have trouble with the landings I see.”

“Oh, be quiet.” Aziraphale frowned dusting himself off and plucking a white feather from his lapel, huffing slightly as he reached up and flicked one out of Crowley’s hair.

“You look like you’ve had a fight with a flock of seagulls.”

“Crowley!”

“Alright I’ll stop.” The Demon smiled his wings disappearing with a soft rush of air.

“Come on, this way.” Aziraphale stepped out into the darkened streets, Crowley beside him and the teasing lilt was gone from his voice as they spoke their conversation as normal as it could be for the two of them.

The restaurant was quaint, one of those that knew Aziraphale by name and welcomed him with open arms surprised that he had brought a friend along. Crowley rolled his eyes which the Angel couldn’t see but he felt it as the Demon slumped into the chair. He ordered for them and Crowley paid, he didn’t have to but Aziraphale appreciated the gesture regardless. The food was delicious but then again Aziraphale had taste for only the best product, the wine flowed free and they were both very drunk by the end of the night. The restaurant closed around them, seeming to ignore the two patrons that continued to drink wine in peace.

“Listen Crowley as much as they’re flawed, they are quite fantastic.”

“I would say fantastic is a bit of a stretch.” Crowley mumbled around the neck of the bottle.

“Oh, come now, they’re inventions are a sight.”

“So, flight huh? You watch them twist it into something horrible.”

“You mean something good?”

“No, I mean something horrible”

“Shouldn’t you enjoy that?”

“Not really. Watching humans kill each other isn’t something I look forward to.” Crowley downed what was rest of the bottle.

“Well, they can’t be perfect, thanks to you.”

“Rub it in why don’t you. It was a job Angel, nothing more nothing less.”

“Excuse me sirs.” A timid waiter approached them, “we’re closing up now so you and your husband will have to leave.”

“Husband?” Aziraphale raised a brow as Crowley choked on some water. “Oh no, we’re not… It’s fine.”

“What? No, it’s not!”

“Come along Crowley, let’s leave this poor boy to clean up.” Aziraphale stood slowly pulling the Demon up by his elbow and escorting him out of the restaurant.

“That was embarrassing.”

“It’s fine Crowley, wouldn’t be the first time.”

“News to me.” The Demon bristled, his wings flared in the dark street, his back was to Aziraphale. “Thanks for dinner, Angel.”

“Crowley, you know it doesn’t mean anything, right?”

“Of course, don’t be a twat.”

“My dear, don’t be rude.”

“Whatever.” Crowley grinned giving casual wave over his shoulder. “I’ll see you next week Angel, can’t have you looking like a half-starved pigeon.”

“I look forward to it, my dear.” That was a lie, he didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again all the kudos my lovely readers. Thank you so much.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now, as Crowley would be the first to protest, most demons weren’t deep down evil. In the great cosmic game, they felt they occupied the same position as tax inspectors—doing an unpopular job, maybe, but essential to the overall operation of the whole thing. If it came to that, some angels weren’t paragons of virtue; Crowley had met one or two who, when it came to righteously smiting the ungodly, smote a good deal harder than was strictly necessary. On the whole, everyone had a job to do, and just did it. And on the other hand, you got people like Ligur and Hastur, who took such a dark delight in unpleasantness you might even have mistaken them for human.”
> 
> So what happened with Cain?

Crawly watched the scene before him, it had been kind of gruesome to say the least, the world’s first murder. He had heard about Eve’s boys and curiosity had driven him back to her side, as the snake of course, she seemed to recognise him, her smooth hands had run down his scales in affection. She didn’t seem happy but then again what human was since the banishment from the Garden? That had been his doing, something he was still quite proud of, giving them the choice. There was a hint of guilt, Eve’s sadness as she watched her family. It made sense now, Cain bashing in Abel’s head had been the reasoning, she had probably sensed the evil inside of him. The Almighty was still relatively involved in human’s lives, Crawly had waited until there was no sign of Her before appearing.

Cain could be called a thorn in humanity’s side. The originator of their evil, their violence and their greed. Crawly had given them the choice between right and wrong and Cain was the first to commit wrong, he never tempted any of them, not since Eve. The Demon had decided to leave them alone after the Garden, more interested in the world that the Almighty had created, when word had spread about Cain he simply couldn’t resist. Crawly was going to keep his distance of course, he had heard that Cain wasn’t exactly on the most stable terms since his mark.

“Did you tempt him?” The Angel was by his side, all white robes and self-righteous air, it made him sick sometimes. He hadn’t really been avoiding him since the Garden, but Crawly was on edge, under the impression that he wasn’t going to be welcomed after the little stunt he had pulled with Eve.

“No, can’t say I can take credit for this.” His words were short, prickled slightly by the Angel’s presence.

“Then why were you in the area Crawly?”

“Let’s just say, I was visiting an old friend.”

“An old friend?” He looked to him; those grey coloured eyes concerned.

“Yeah.” Crawly smiled, standing beside the Angel, looking down at Cain on the land below. Murderous, vindictive, rage filled Cain. The human was on a spree, murdering Demons, Angels, Humans, whatever he could come across, why sin once and go to Hell when you could do it multiple times and have the same journey. “Sword looks awfully familiar.”

“Yes, it does rather.”

“You gave it away.”

“I gave it away, they really needed it.”

“How’s that working out for you Angel?”

“Not well, honestly.”

“Really?” Crawly smirked, “I could swear it being in the hands of the first murderer is interesting to say the least.”

“I do need that back.”

“Probably shouldn’t have given it away.” Crawly mocked. “So, go take it back.”

“I’d rather not. Cain’s been a little…”

“Murderous?”

“Hmm…” The Angel grimaced. “Yes that.”

“Was it the murder or the lie that pissed Them off?” They were side by side; he could feel ethereal feathers brushing against his own.

“Probably both.”

“Just miracle it away.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Crawly asked, brow raised above his serpentine eyes. “You have the power to do it.”

“I don’t think—"

“No, you don’t.” Crawly frowned, they were both keeping their distance from the murderous man. “Your sword is responsible for killing… everything.”

“Well, not responsible.”

“Making it possible then. Fix your problem.”

“I can’t!” The Angel wrung his hands together, nervous energy radiating from his inner being.

“Oh, you’re such a stickler for the rules.” Crawly snapped his fingers, the flaming sword clutched in Cain’s hand simply popped out of existence, well it would appear somewhere else, but that wasn’t of his concern. Crawly found Demonic intervention very easy, it helped when he didn’t feel any remorse when he created something for his own personal gain. “There. It’s taken care of.”

“You did that… for me?”

“Don’t kid yourself.” Crawly grinned flaring his wings in the other reality, brushing against the Angel’s in turn. “Good luck finding it now.”

“Crawly!”

“Angel, shut up!” Crawly had taken a step back, serpentine eyes a mere slit in the golden irises.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think we’ve been spotted.”

“Oh dear…” The Angel noticed Cain, the human practically snarling at them from below.

“Oh dear.”

“We should probably go… Crawly?” He turned, he could no longer feel the Demon’s wings brushing against his own in the other plane, when he glanced, he could see why. A large black and red snake was slithering towards some rocks, burrowing himself into a small crack between the stones. “Crawly!”

_‘You’re a warrior… get rid of him!’_

“Crawl—” The air was knocked from the Angel’s lungs as Cain tackled him to the ground, his face contorted with murderous rage. Crawly stayed hidden, his body curled and ready to flee if it had to come to it. The Angel was grasping at Cain, holding his wrists and trying to force him off, even Crawly could see he wasn’t winning. “Oh, you wretched Demon you!”

That hurt, those words caused something to leap into his throat and lodge itself there. Crawly wasn’t a fighter, he was a coward and quite proud of that fact. Being cowardly meant he could live and go on to see what other brilliant things the humans would come up with. The Angel wasn’t faring well, which was surprising because Crawly could swear that deep down they were all warriors, he may not have remembered much from before his fall, but he knew Angels were more like an army than cherubic creatures. Cain wasn’t holding back, for a human he was filled with vicious rage that was directed towards the Angel, Crawly flicked out his tongue nervously, he could smell blood.

The Serpent slithered his body from beneath the rocks, he could feel them scratching against his smooth scales and he worked his entire being from his hiding place. His body coiled, his neck flattened slightly, and an agitated hiss escaped him. Cain either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, his grappling with the Angel taking his entire attention. Crawly sprang forward, his jaws wide and his fangs bared, he sunk into the flesh, his body wrapping tightly around Cain’s thigh as his fangs pierced into the muscle layer below. Crawly was venomous, he had never bitten a human before and he had no idea what would happen, but he did worry about the Angel, so what was one little human compared to the Divine?

“Crawly!” The Angel pulled himself out from under Cain, grasping at his wrists to stop him from clawing at the scales and he felt him go lax in his arms. “Crawly stop!”

 _‘Sssorry…’_ Crawly released his fangs, his jaw rehinging with a stretch as he uncurled himself from Cain, creating distance between them before he transformed back, yellow eyes wide. “I got carried away.”

“Thank you Crawly.”

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

“Don’t say that… I could get into trouble.” They both looked down at the body. “Did I kill him?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s fine. He’s cursed. Can’t be killed I’m afraid.”

“Nice to know…” Crawly stepped away, turning his back on Cain and hoping to ignore this entire ordeal. He had never done that before, and it was something he never wanted to do again. Human’s tasted terrible. “He could have killed you Angel.”

“Aziraphale.”

“Gesundheit.”

“No that’s my name?”

“Is it?” Crawly raised a brow, “how unfortunate for you.”

“I happen to like the name given to me by the Almighty.”

“That makes one of us.” Crawly sneered as he dusted off his robes.

“Oh, that’s right… you fell.” If the Angel could have spat the word he probably would have.

“Like I need reminding. Thank-you-very-much.” Crawly looked to Aziraphale, bloodied and face swollen, he looked ridiculous. With a wave of his hand the blood disappeared, bruises faded, and a clean face stared back at him in shock. “There all better.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it… ever!”

“Of course.”

“Can’t have word getting out that a human bested an Angel, now can we?”

“I suppose not.”

“So, you’ll keep quiet?”

“Yes.”

“Deal?” Crawly held out his hand, the Angel shook it cautiously. “Splendid.”

Aziraphale didn’t know what he was getting into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter and honestly my avid readers there are probably only two or so left.
> 
> Thank you for the lovely kudos.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are we going to do now?”   
> “Try and get some sleep.”   
> “You don’t need sleep. I don’t need sleep. Evil never sleeps, and Virtue is ever-vigilant.”   
> “Evil in general, maybe. This specific part of it has got into the habit of getting its head down occasionally.”

It was almost the turn of the century when Aziraphale realised he hadn’t seen Crowley for the last three months. This in itself wasn’t that strange but he did wonder where the Demon had gone off too, it was a possibility he was galivanting around the globe again, or he could have easily found a place to settle down, drink some wine and possibly he got carried away. Aziraphale had checked all their regular spots but there was no sign of the Demon, not until he finally made it to the little flat that Crowley had called home. It was temporary, like all things with Crowley, his look, his personality, it changed with the times.

The flat was small and quaint, in a part of London Aziraphale normally steered clear of, he flicked the lapels up on his jacket, trying to stave off the cold crisp wind. It was a winter that London would probably never forget, snow and chill ran through the streets, people hid in their houses and rugged up against the cold only braving it if they really had too. Aziraphale stood out the front of Crowley’s doorway a small wave of his fingers unlocked the bolt and he stepped into the dark. Lanterns flickered to life and illuminated the small abode, there wasn’t much to the interior, a small bed pushed to one side and that was where he found Crowley.

“Really darling, sleeping again?” It was a little different this time, half snuggled underneath the pillows and blankets was Crowley, all coiled muscle and black scales, his sides rising and falling softly with his breaths. “I suppose it is a bit cold isn’t it?”

Aziraphale sat down on the mattress, it compressed under his weight and he let his hands fall onto the smooth scales of Crowley’s body. He always enjoyed the great serpent, he loved all Her creatures and he supposed that meant Demons as well, they had originally come from the same stock after all. He wondered not for the first time who Crowley really was, before the fall, before his vague saunter downwards as he liked to put it. He ran a finger across Crowley’s flat head noticing his amber eyes were vacant, so he was asleep.

“Come on Crowley, it’s been awfully boring without you around.” Aziraphale shifted the pillows slightly uncovering the giant snake, he watched as Crowley curled tighter into himself, all twisted muscle, black and red scales glistening in the lantern light. The flat was cold, the Angel could feel it in his bones, no wonder Crowley wasn’t doing so well, Aziraphale gently replaced the pillow, and the Demon shifted, life coming back into his eyes as he yawned. Jaws were wide, his fangs folding down before retreating back up into place and he shifted his head on his own body to look at the Angel.

_‘Aziraphale, what are you doing here?’_

“I haven’t seen you in a while. I was worried.”

_‘You don’t need to worry, I’m right here.’_

“I can see that.” Aziraphale did not protest as Crowley slowly uncurled himself, his muscles rippling with his movements as he slithered across the bedsheets, his body seeking out the Angel’s warmth and his tongue flicking lazily. “Sometimes I forget what you are.”

_‘I don’t, hard to forget sssomething when you’re constantly reminded of it.’_

Aziraphale let Crowley curl his body around him, those cold scales seeking warmth, he was a large serpent, his body heavy as he coiled around the Angel’s lap, circling into himself to try and preserve warmth. It was the coldest winter on record so far, London was blanketed in snow and it had been beautiful to begin with but since then the people were starting to become irate with the cold. Aziraphale let his hands fall onto Crowley’s smooth body, tracing scales idly.

“If you’re so susceptible to the cold my dear, why do you live here?”

_‘I don’t live here Angel, it’ss just for convenience.’_

“Not here, you daft old fool. London. Why here of all places? You could always go to America, Australia, even some places in the Middle East would have an environment more suited to… well you.” Aziraphale gestured vaguely to the frosted windows, they were hidden behind shutters, concealing the snow behind them, they did little to stave off the cold.

_‘Why would I want to go anywhere else?’_

“So, you don’t have to leach the warmth from me.” Aziraphale looked around, “the fire you burnt has gone out a long time ago.”

 _‘Angel.’_ Crowley slithered upwards, winding half his body around the top of Aziraphale’s shoulders, his tongue licking out slowly, his movements languid, slow and sluggish. _‘I don’t want to go to any of those placess. I want to ssstay here… with you.’_

“Oh…” Aziraphale looked to the serpent, seeing those amber eyes focused on him as he wound his way back down onto the Angel’s lap. “That’s sweet.”

 _‘Iss it?’_ Crowley curled up again. _‘Oppositess attract I sssuppose. I’ve known you sssince the beginning Angel, who else am I going to talk too?’_

“We have known each other for a long time. I guess you are kind of a friend.”

_‘Thankss, I guesss.’_

“Crowley.” Aziraphale ran his hands down the black scales, his thumb idly brushing the lightened point of the Demon’s snout feeling his tongue flick over his fingers. “Come with me.”

_‘What?’_

“Back to the bookshop in Soho. You can wait out the winter there, I mean I can keep the fire going and make sure it’s much warmer than this place.”

_‘Are you trying to tempt me?’_

“Look after you, I think. Come on Crowley, what have you got to lose?” Aziraphale saw the Demon nod his head and curl up tightly. Asking him to change was never going to happen, he tried his best to bundle up the mass of black and red scales close to his body. Crowley came too enough to wrap some of his muscled mass around Aziraphale’s torso, his head nestled in the crook of his shoulder.

Aziraphale pulled his coat tightly around them both, Crowley was heavy, but he could carry him easily, the bite in the wind whipped at them and he felt Crowley instinctively curl in closer to him. The neighbourhood the Demon had set up in wasn’t the best, but Aziraphale didn’t have to worry about being accosted, there was barely anyone on the streets. The bookshop was a welcoming sight and he unlocked it with numb plump fingers, it was nice to be out of the wind but the store itself was still chilled, Crowley curling tighter around him.

“Hold on my dear, I’ll get you warmed up.” Aziraphale flicked on the lanterns with a gesture of his hands, the fireplace that was settled under the western side of the shop. The wood inside was practically charcoal but Aziraphale had never refilled them before, the fireplace worked just fine, like everything else in the bookshop. The flames flickered to life and the Angel moved a settee in front of them for the warmth, he settled down on the antique cushions grasping a book from a nearby table. “You’ll warm up soon.”

 _‘I hope ssso.’_ Crowley slithered his way from Aziraphale’s body, curling on himself on top of the cushions his body pressed against the Angel’s thighs, the warmth from the fire washing over them, the light flickering against his scales.

“You’ll be alright.”

Aziraphale left the serpent to sleep out the winter. Christmas came and went which he had to admit was slightly boring without the Demon to share drinks with. The New Year was worse, they couldn’t compare their resolutions like they normally did and laughed about it like every year. He made sure to keep the fire going, every now and then he would see Crowley shift and even explore the bookshop when the days were warm but eventually, he would curl up back in front of the fire.

January came and went and Aziraphale had to reassure a few customers that the snake asleep on the couch, was quite alright and he was friendly but please don’t disturb him as he was hibernating. Aziraphale was fully aware that Crowley wasn’t going to wake until the temperature stayed consistently above zero. Unfortunately for Aziraphale that had taken months and it wasn’t until late March that Crowley had appeared in his kitchen one morning, back in human form and looking like someone who had slept for months.

“Welcome back Crowley.”

“Hey Angel.” The Demon yawned. “Got any coffee, or tea, I’m not fussed.”

“Sure, thing my dear, have a seat I’ll make you something.”

“Hmm…” Crowley hummed as Aziraphale moved around the kitchenette to bring the kettle to the boil.

“I’ve missed you Crowley, wasn’t the same this Christmas without you.”

“Really? What no drinking and reminiscing about the good old days?”

“You’ll have to make it up to me.”

“I think I owe you quite a few after all this.”

“That you do.” Aziraphale smiled handing a tea to the Demon and sitting down with him again as they migrated back to the settee in front of the fire. If Crowley sat close to him and their thighs were touching Aziraphale wasn’t going to point it out. “If the winters ever get too cold for you, you’re always welcomed here.”

“That’s nice to know, although I was thinking of getting my own place.”

“You don’t have to do that Crowley.”

“I know I don’t have to…”

“You’re always welcomed here.” Aziraphale drank his tea, he wanted to remind Crowley what he had said, that he stayed in London for him, but he knew the Demon would deny it, blame it on his hibernation. He decided it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. “Whatever you feel is best my dear.”

“I guess I’ll start looking.”

“Of course, let me know if you need any help.”

“I should get going. Thanks for the tea, and the place to stay Aziraphale.”

“Stay for awhile Crowley, I feel like we’ve got a lot to catch up on, well you have a lot to catch up on. I’m aware you’ve done nothing but sleep for four months.”

“You really should try it one day angel.”

“No thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

They drank their tea in silence, after an hour they had moved onto wine and their conversation began to flow as freely as the liquor, Aziraphale caught Crowley up on everything that had happened over the last few months, it was nothing exciting but the Demon listened to him anyway seemingly enamoured by every world. Aziraphale missed this, their time together, he had gone much longer without his company before but since the French Revolution the Angel found Crowley’s presence more than welcoming. A part of him wanted this time to never end, the normalcy of it all, having Crowley there for months had been refreshing, even if he had slept most of the time, Aziraphale realised he enjoyed having someone to talk to. Crowley though was proud, it probably burned him up inside to know that Aziraphale had taken care of him like some kind of pet, he was aware that the Demon would find his own place, sooner rather than later so he would have to be complacent with their little rendevous with wine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my avid readers. <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And just when you'd think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occasionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved. It was this free-will thing, of course. It was a bugger.”
> 
> I always found the sketch of the Mona Lisa in the show rather fascinating as well as the inscription below. So behold this short chapter.

Aziraphale neatly dodged a human as he walked along the path, he was putting a lot Divine energy into the world, for them to ignore him, to let him go about his business. The Angel wasn’t up to anything, he had no miracles to preform, no one to inspire, he was simply enjoying the day. Aziraphale stopped in his tracks at a familiar face, a dark blot against the bright grass and he smiled, something was off though, Crowley wasn’t normally one to sulk and boy was he sulking. He was like a depressing black hole, radiating spite and malice, humans who were sensitive seemed to be giving him a wide birth.

Crowley was lounging on the bench in a park, this of itself was not a strange occurrence, the strange part was that they hadn’t seen each other for the last eighty years at least so it was quite a surprise to see him there. He had something clutched in his hands, a thick role of parchment and he was staring out at the ducks on the water who quacked unhappily at him. Aziraphale gasped as he watched a grumpy drake pop under the water and not resurface.

“Really my dear?”

“Hello Aziraphale.”

“Crowley, please.”

“Sorry…” The drake popped to the surface and swam away.

“Long time no see.”

“I’ve been busy, you?”

“Good never sleeps.” Aziraphale sighed as he sat down onto the bench, looking at Crowley from the corner of his eye.

“You should try it sometime. They say a bed at the end of the day is heavenly.”

“I truly hope not.” Aziraphale smiled at the Demon’s light chuckle, Heaven had changed over the years, but the sterile white tower was not something he wanted to think about at the end of the day, there were so many better things to get lost in like a good story. They sat in silence, Aziraphale with a wiggle of his hands conjured up some seed and he flung it to the ducks to fill the silence between them. Crowley was watching the birds squabble angrily over the seeds, but he didn’t try to drown anymore of them.

“Do you ever get attached?”

“Sorry?”

“To humans. Do you ever get attached?”

“Can’t say that I have. They do live such fleeting lives.”

“That they do.” Crowley’s hands clenched around the parchment he was holding.

“Did you get attached?” Aziraphale noticed the way the Demon had stiffened under his scrutinising gaze.

“No, don’t be silly Angel.”

“Of course, what would give me such an idea?” Aziraphale smiled fondly at the Demon. Sometimes Crowley would vaguely hint at his problem, hoping he could solve it with outright giving up his problems. It was a dance they preformed every few decades or so, one of them would be confused about something but were unwilling to say what it was, the other had to not only give advice but figure out what the problem was. This was easy though; Crowley was denying his involvement but sometimes things just happened. “I can’t say I’ve ever gotten close enough to one to form an attachment, but I do love every single one of God’s creatures. So, in a way I suppose I have.”

“Become attached?”

“Yes.”

“That’s idiotic of you.”

“Of course, it is.” Aziraphale sighed rubbing his fingers against his temples. “It’s a shame about their humanity. Their free will gives them the ability to create such fascinating things, but their mortality is the price. It’s a very fleeting existence.”

“Compared to us, I guess it is.”

“Eternity is a very long time my dear.” Aziraphale’s hand rested gently on Crowley’s wrist, he felt the Demon stiffen under his touch, long fingers clutching on the parchment. “Must have been someone very special to gain your attention.”

“They were.”

“Who were they?”

“Some inventor, painter, absolutely genius.” Crowley’s hands tightened around the parchment with a soft little gasp he released it, scared he might damage it, the parchment rolling to the grass.

Aziraphale bent to pick it up, his manicured hands gentle as he felt Crowley’s eyes boring into him beneath the glasses. He would never damage anything of the Demon’s or anything that was made by humans. Aziraphale hesitated before he slowly unravelled the parchment, Crowley flinched towards him but didn’t really attempt to take it off him seemingly settling down on the bench with the air of nonchalance that the Angel knew he didn’t possess at this stage. It was a picture, of a woman, writing on the bottom and his Italian was a little rusty, he recognised the names though and Aziraphale smiled.

“It’s very lovely Crowley.” He carefully rolled up the parchment and handed it back to the Demon who took it delicately from his hands. “He must have meant a lot to you.”

“Never thought one of them would.”

“Free will on their behalf is a wonderous thing.”

“I guess.” Crowley clutched his hand around the parchment a frown on his features. “Never thought it would affect me though.”

“It’s—”

“I swear if you say fucking—”

“Language.

“Fine! Fricking inevitable. Better?” Crowley snarled rolling his eyes before glaring daggers at Aziraphale.

“Much.”

“Why do you have to be so… you?”

“Who else would I be?”

“Ne-nevermind.” Crowley muttered slowly standing and stretching his long lithe body, Aziraphale too stood the Demon watching him carefully.

“Care to join me for lunch?”

“Why?”

“I haven’t seen you for almost one hundred years—”

“We’ve gone longer.”

“Yes, I understand that, but I miss our outings. So, lunch?”

“Fine.”

“Don’t be snippy with me Crowley.” Aziraphale chuckled at the indignation on the Demon’s face as he led the way, Crowley jogging to catch up. “You can tell me all about your human.”

“Alright, you’re buying. I need wine, lots and lots of wine.”

“I can make that happen.”

“Awesome. Lead the way Angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the views and the kudos my lovelies. One more chapter to go after this one.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’d just like to say,” he said, “if we don’t get out of this, that…I’ll have known, deep down inside, that there was a spark of goodness in you.” “That’s right,” said Crowley bitterly. “Make my day.” Aziraphale held out his hand. “Nice knowing you,” he said. Crowley took it. “Here’s to the next time,” he said. “And…Aziraphale?” “Yes.” “Just remember I’ll have known that, deep down inside, you were just enough of a bastard to be worth liking.”

Aziraphale’s fingers groomed through Crowley’s feathers, they were always glossy and the darkest inky black he had ever seen. His favourite part was the soft powder down, little flecks of red peppered each one, hidden beneath coverts and alulas, only visible in the correct light. It reminded Aziraphale of the smooth dry scales of the Demon before him, he did miss the serpent every now and then, he was a magnificent creature after all. He much preferred Crowley’s form now, all long limbs, high cheekbones and flaming hair, their bodies hadn’t changed much over the centuries, but Crowley was much better at keeping with the times than he was. Deft fingers worked through feathers with practised ease, he may not have been up to date with his own grooming but he knew what this meant to Crowley and so he took his time. Aziraphale usually ended up running his mouth and ruining the moment for them both, so he decided to stay silent.

Crowley was like butter in his hands, he had been comfortably sipping wine and flicking through a book Aziraphale didn’t mind if it got ruined, which it would, Crowley wasn’t a delicate reader, or skimmer because he only looked at the pictures anyway. They had become much closer after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t and their near brush with death per their respective head offices. They had all the time in the world to do whatever they wanted, and either of them hadn’t done anything, well anything out of the normal anyway. Dinner at the Ritz, wine afterwards, talking into the night, it was all so normal. Aziraphale loved normal, he hated surprises, especially surprises Crowley had dipped his fingers into. The Demon could really be the Devil when he wanted, as much as he tried to deny it.

Aziraphale placed his hand the Demon’s shoulder and he obliged shifting his wings so the Angel could reach the front of them with minimal difficulty. Tonight, was one of their more solemn nights, companionable silence, wine and quite good company if he did say so himself. He was hoping Crowley would stay the night again, he enjoyed the company in the morning, conversation over breakfast was always better than tea alone. Aziraphale found Crowley’s ability to sleep fascinating, the Demon didn’t need it of course, but he had done it enough that it had become a habit, he wouldn’t say a bad habit, they had both formed plenty of those. It was rather endearing, seeing Crowley rise late in the morning, blanket wrapped around him with his hair a mess and begging for a coffee or tea. Aziraphale really enjoyed it when Crowley would stay the night, he wouldn’t suggest it of course, he’d ruined the moment like he always did.

“You’re quiet tonight, Angel.”

“Just thinking is all.”

“Dangerous that is.”

“Don’t be cheeky or I’ll pluck you like a chicken.”

“Ooh, threats, I like.”

“Of course, you do my dear. Quiet now.” Aziraphale shushed him, his hands miracle a tumbler of scotch to keep the Demon occupied and pleasantly buzzed. If it was for selfish reasons, he wasn’t going to voice it, that would be rather Demonic of him.

Crowley started talking about mundane things, ducks and champagne, squids and architecture, his ramblings made no sense but Aziraphale followed along anyway giving input when needed and prompting him to continue when the silence became too much. He had finished grooming the Demon minutes ago, but his fingers continued their work, smoothing already flat primaries as he hummed aimlessly, if it was Queen neither of them commented. They really were magnificent, nothing compared to an Archangel’s of course but Aziraphale had never cared for them the way he cared for the Demon before him.

Crowley’s wings were beautiful in a way that made his Grace flutter. He was filled with nothing but affection for the Demon, it was something that had caught him off guard the first time, but since then he had nurtured the feeling and dotted on Crowley when he could. The Demon pretended to hate it but that didn’t mean that Aziraphale couldn’t see that fond smile. His Grace and light hummed with his affection, he was certain that Crowley could feel it, although he had always denied being sensitive to love as an emotion.

“What scotch is this Angel? Might knock me on my arse soon.”

“Just something I got for you, Macallan M. I know you like it.”

“Oh, you do spoil me.” Crowley practically melted in his hands. “You are a little bit of a bastard. Do you know how much that costs right?”

“I’d rather not know, best to keep that to yourself.” Aziraphale sighed as Crowley slowly stood stretching his wings.

Demons were oddly beautiful for what it was worth. Where Angels were blazing light bending will and reality into a flesh body, Demons were black holes, darkness as an aura that pulled everything into it. If he concentrated hard enough, he could see Crowley, the real Crowley. Darkness with the smallest smattering of flickering lights, little dots of love and affection pulsing within, avoiding the depth of the despair, Crowley was one of a kind. It wasn’t often Aziraphale bent reality to witness him, but in the blink of an eye it was gone, just Crowley offering his hand with wiggled fingertips to grasp his attention.

“Your turn.” Crowley slumped into the couch with the grace of a bag of potatoes. Aziraphale smiled affectionately at him before he moved to sit on the floor, whiskey in hand as he heard the Demon shuffle behind him. There was a time when this would have made him nervous, he wasn’t like that anymore, he trusted Crowley.

White wings spread, brilliant and radiant even in the dark bookstore. Yellowed light danced on his feathers highlighting the small flecks of gold within. He felt Crowley’s long fingers expertly run through his powder down starting at his marginal coverts, he didn’t need to pluck as many as he once had. Grooming every six months as part of the Arrangement was for both of their benefit, and it had worked to bring them closer together and build the trust between them.

Crowley’s fingertips ran over the golden flecks, they looked much better than Michael’s or Hell forbid, Sandalphon’s choice of gold. The Demon was always fond of the nicer things in life, but there was such a thing as too much and the other Angels managed to make the whole thing seem awfully gaudy. Crowley didn’t stand for that; his Angel might have been stuck in the past, but he had to admit the waist coat did suit him.

“This is lovely scotch.”

“Technically scotch whiskey, but I’ll let it slide only because you preformed such a frivolous miracle.”

“How lovely of you.” Aziraphale did not say kind, he knew that Crowley hated that.

“You are beautiful Aziraphale.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Please don’t make me repeat myself… please.” Crowley hissed, his hands continuing their work. “You are though, I miss seeing you, the real you. It’s a shame that you have to hide it.”

“I’m not like other Angels, all trumpets and fanfares.”

“Shame really, you would have made a great messenger.” Crowley chuckled.

“Please, I’m not Gabriel. Did you know he actually told Mary that she was _‘up the duff’_?”

“No!” 

“Yeah.” Aziraphale laughed, it wasn’t a delicate sound, but it was warm and so very Aziraphale. “The stories I could tell you.”

“You must indulge me.”

“Not today, I’ve said quite enough I think.”

“Oh, come on Aziraphale!” Crowley whined, actually whined as if the Angel was keeping one big secret.

“You’ve got your scotch Crowley; I think that’s enough.”

“You’re no fun.” The Demon hissed into Aziraphale’s ear playfully as his hands quickly worked through his scapulars. A firm hand on his shoulder turned the Angel so he was facing the Demon with a fond smile. Crowley slid from the couch, with the grace of the serpent he was and settled onto the floor, cross legged in front of him. His fingers reached forward to slowly begin their work on the underside of the brilliantly white wings.

“May I?”

“Hmm?” Crowley’s brows arched in confusion, plump fingers delicately rose to remove those God-awful sunglasses and placed them on the coffee table to the side.

“You don’t need to hide from me Crowley.”

“Force of habit.”

“I know.” Aziraphale toasted their glasses, clinking softly in the bookshop. His eyes studied the Demon, golden irises looking anywhere but at him, deft fingers simply working through the feathers. Aziraphale was surrounded by love, he could feel it in the bookshop, feel it radiating from Crowley even if he was trying to smother it down. He was happy, after six thousand years, Aziraphale was happy. “Crowley, I love you.”

“Shut up Angel.” Crowley’s voice was fond, he leaned into Aziraphale gently resting their foreheads together. “I love you too.”

“Crowley.” It was the first time the Demon had said it.

“Don’t tell anyone, I have an image to uphold.”

“Never!” Aziraphale’s smile would light up any room, Crowley’s chaste kiss on his forehead caused him to flush slightly. It took just over six thousand years for them to say it, for Aziraphale to have everything he had ever wanted.

Their love was completely different. Where Aziraphale was a creature of love, he felt it unconditionally, gentle and soothing. The kind of love one feels for family, that need to wrap someone in close, hold them tight and never let go. Aziraphale’s love was beautiful, all encompassing, full of loyalty and compassion for all things including Crowley. He had loved the Demon for a very long time, probably longer than what Crowley had loved in return but he didn’t mind. The fact that he felt love at all was surprising and it was always better late than never. Aziraphale simply wanted to spend what indefinite time they had together, whether it was for days like this, or something else entirely, he didn’t care, he simply wanted this, right now, forever.

Crowley’s love was something boiling within. His love was fierce, protective and burning with something he didn’t comprehend. The Demon didn’t understand his emotional state, but he felt them like a vicious hurricane swirling through him and tearing up everything else. His love was like a wildfire, burning with a loyalty he couldn’t understand. Where Aziraphale would cherish his life, Crowley would do anything to protect his Angel, sacrifice himself if it had ever come to it. His love for Aziraphale made him strong, made him believe he could do anything, but it also made him so very weak. Crowley’s life would never be better than this moment, if he could stretch this out for all eternity he would, savour every drop of love and affection between them.

Love can come in many forms, it is a strong and positive emotion from the most virtuous, affection and to the simplest pleasure. Love will differ, from a mother to a spouse to even the love of food. Most commonly love refers to a feeling of strong attraction and emotional attachment, however one chooses to love there is no wrong way, it can become twisted in self-righteousness but love itself is a pure, strong and positive emotion. Over the course of six thousand years, something along the lines of affection could evolve into love, they will just have to figure it out as they go along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was the last chapter, thank you so much for reading my friends, thank you for ther comments and the kudos. I hope you enjoyed.


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